The Alternative
by Pure Taco
Summary: Ellie and Riley. Two catastrophal teenagers who get plunged into chaos, where a trip to the mall changes their lives forever. Forced to journey through the ruins of the United States, all odds seem to be against them both. The world ahead of them deems unforgiving, and as soon as it decides to challenge them, they enduringly challenge it back. [Completed] Part 2 NOW OUT.
1. Reconnecting

_**Before you read, know these things:**_

_**1) **Parts of the The Last of Us: American Dreams comics will be in written form called flashbacks. There will be parts in the flashbacks that might contain content not shown in the comics._

_**2) **There are POVs in The Alternative, the main ones are Ellie and Riley's. The side ones are Third Person POVs from Joel's standpoint or during Flashbacks. Don't worry, I'll tell you beforehand when POVs switch._

_**3) **This story is an AU where only Ellie gets bitten and Riley lives. She's still prone to the infection, but hasn't been bitten yet._

_**4)** The pairing involves Ellie and Riley. Romance and fluff and all those other stuff are involved, if you feel uncomfortable reading such things, then I suggest you not to read.__  
_

**_5) _**_This is pretty long for my first work. Please enjoy, and take a break in between. Feedback is highly appreciated, and I hope you'll have fun._

_**6) **The cover of this fanfic belongs to Janice Chu aka Churon on Tumblr.__ Please give her credits for an impeccable fanart._

_And another warning in case you haven't noticed, the story is full of spoilers. I highly suggest you to finish the game on the PS3/PS4 (including Left Behind) before you read this story. It's also recommended to read their comic, The Last of Us: American Dreams to make sense with flashbacks. You've been cautiously informed._

**_4/4/2015: Being reedited. Sorry for the inconvenience._**

* * *

**-PROLOGUE-**

* * *

She realizes that being a Firefly isn't all it's cracked up to be.

The Boston base she's resided in is home to herself and dozens of 'Fly faces that frequently give her the looks, not adjusting well enough to process the fact that Marlene had recruited an adolescent into their cause.

It's a strange thing to get used to, but no one questions it. Not even when Marlene orders one of them to press Riley's name onto the back of a pre-made Firefly pendant; not even when she's wielding a pocket knife and aims for the head of a restrained infected, stabs, and passes the initiation.

The second the creature's head gets pronged, Riley's gifted with pats on the backs and nods of approval as she stands before her kill, masking revulsion as a pool of red starts circling the dead infected. She can hardly steady her weapon, which is coated with infectious blood.

The sight of it reminds her of something, but it's ominous and bleak and the last thing she would want is to remember anything from the past.

Riley shakes her head_, I should be grateful._ she thinks. Of course, she's gotten what she wanted, after all. She's become one of them.

Well—in a way, at least.

It's slightly disappointing when the following days consist of simple drills that have already been taught to her long before her initiation. The first few weeks hold tests of stamina and agility which Riley passes with ease. The next week consists of firearm training where a gun finally lands on her anticipating palms. Melanie, one of the Fireflies, has tutored her through the whole thing, explaining with patience regarding the basics of aiming and shooting with a pistol. It's not a struggle for Riley either, and the entertainment for a good challenge diminishes each passing day.

At times, she forgets where she is, and finds herself wondering why the corridors don't lead to the mess hall.

It doesn't surprise her when Marlene confesses that she's too young to be placed in the front lines, or to be sent out with an armed posse to scavenge for items left strewn about in Boston. Instead, she's assigned as a medic, nursing wounded Fireflies and attending meetings despite the lack of participation. If anything, she's relieved. Sewing up somebody's wound is better than sewing her own. The higher the chance of her life probability, the more she hopes to see her again.

Of course. Her.

Ellie.

One thing that distracts her from her Firefly duties, is that green-eyed girl that peeks out out of every gaping hole in her mind. She misses her (it's not that hard to admit), and she's left to count the days since her departure from the school. The sour regret that coils in her stomach doesn't go away. It's a persistent itch that scratches her soul and berates her conscience, she wakes up every day with the same message playing over and over in her head that won't leave her no matter how hard she tries.

_You left her there without saying a word._

The guilt is almost unbearable. Almost. Riley's found techniques at coping with it, at least, and she's discovered that sewing wounds is a sufficient suppressor. It earns her double points when the stitching is done well enough that the good deed passes around until it reaches Marlene. She's satisfied with the credit she's been given, but the itch is still there.

Even when days turn to weeks and those weeks turn to a month, it's been there ever since.

She remembers the words that she's assaulted Ellie with, and the poison seems to damage them both. She knows the scene verbatim, recalling how thorny her unintentional hatred was at the moment. It rings in her ears every now and then, and she's left sitting at the edge of her cot during the late night, curling up her toes, wondering if Ellie's going through the same experience she's forced to endure each night.

One excerpt in particular doesn't leave her head:  
_"Get your own goddamn life, Ellie!"_ she remembered herself say. _"Quit interfering with mine and fuck off!"_

_..._

It's as venomous as it gets.

She sees the scene again. And it's moments after her yelling, where they both stood in silence; with Ellie looking at her with pained eyes and Riley with her urge to take everything she had said back. But it was too late for apologies, and she left Ellie's room without uttering another word, only to disappear the following day.

It's not a memory she likes to reminisce, it's one of those sour tapes that play in her brain unintentionally. It's a horrible remembrance, right next to the fact that she left her best friend to join the Fireflies like she's always dreamed of. She hasn't even said goodbye, not even bothering to leave a note that would've told Ellie that she was sorry for the things she'd said, and that she had to leave the school to pursue her foolish dreams of becoming a Firefly.

And then there are those feelings she has for her.  
She wants to tell her so bad that it hurts.

It hurts because she's not going to. It hurts because she's gone too far to ever get back to what she and Ellie once were. There will be no more late-night conversations, no more meetups to go stargazing on the precipice of abandoned buildings. There won't be anything left. Ellie and Riley's friendship was nothing more but an old memory, like looking at a foggy mirror that was once shining in its golden age.

She can't get Ellie out of her head. No matter what.  
She can't get her stupid green eyes out of her visions.

Fuck, she doesn't even know if she loves he—

"Abel." interrupts Marlene.

And then Riley's world falls apart and decimates into nothing.

...

"Riley. Did you get that?"

...

"I—" she sighs, shaking her head. "Sorry, what was it?"

Marlene's back straightens as Riley sits across from her on a chair, a desk with confidential files separating the two of them. The dim light above flickers from time to time, the Firefly leader links her fingers together and presents her palms onto the desk.

"As I've said, you're all set for Rhode Island. The group I've assigned you with's about to leave in two days. As early as now, prepare yo—"

"_What?_" she blurts out. Prepare? For Rhode Island? Something rumbles in her stomach and she's sure that it's not the bread rations. How on earth did she miss this?

Marlene's lips thin by each fleeting moment. It's not uncommon for Riley Abel to break out in fits of surprise, but it's grown rather tiring for the older woman. She presses two fingers against her forehead, feels the sensation of her moist skin, and takes a mute breath. Riley concludes that the whole process makes her look a decade older.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes." she would've wanted to say. "There is."

But she doesn't, she takes the safer route instead.

"I . . . I don't see how shipping me off to Rhode Island's an advantage for us. Isn't it more reliable to stick to the stronghold?"

Marlene leans back to the spine of her chair and begins counting fingers. "Let's see. The advantages are basic. Few military personnel, few Infected, more rations, more recruits, and a better chance for improved isolation." It tallies five, and she presents her palm with all the numbers on her fingers, outstretched. "Our Boston stronghold's not going to last very long, I'll give you that. Give it three months or less, this whole base is going to collapse. We're sending off our people as early as now. Lest we turn out as dog chow, I expect you to comply."

There's a silence, Riley gulps and stares down at her lap. The light flickers on and off again, the grim scent of the peeling walls emancipates around the room, suffocating them. She knows there's no runaround to this, if you're given orders by Marlene herself, you don't get much choice in which way you'd have your cake eaten.

"Ellie. . ?" she queries, making the older woman scowl slightly.

She shakes her head.

"You can't meet her."

...

The chances of seeing Ellie immediately gets obliterated until it transforms into a pile of black ash.

"But—"

"Riley, we've talked about this. You know that."

...

"Yeah." she manages to bite out, "I know."

Marlene doesn't want to do this, despite her knowledge of how lackadaisical the two girls are when together and up to mischief. The stakes are higher when one of them's a Firefly. It always is. You take sacrifices and you eat them up and you don't complain if things don't go both ways. Indubitably, Marlene can't risk getting either of them hurt. Riley's one of the youngest recruits they've had, and there's a reason for it. Ellie, on the other hand, is a whole different story that consists of promises.

Marlene pushes herself out of the chair and stands up, closing in to the door and attempting to exit. She lingers with her hand on the doorknob, before turning back to the young girl who seems too stubborn to budge out of her seat.

"Two days, and I'll get back to you." she reminds her. "Remember our protocol, Abel. Our rules."

The door closes with an unsettling calmness.

...

Usually, Riley doesn't think twice when doing things under the cause; always willing, and never reluctant. This, although, seems to question her decisions. Sure, she breaks protocol every now and then, sometimes sneaking out of the base and ending up caught on the rooftops watching the stars and moon set. Nothing major. Some of the 'Flies find it entertaining and cover for her when Marlene is around. But this, this is different. She's going to get transported out of Boston. Away from the quarantine zone, away from her origins.

Away from Ellie.

The guilt and regret sears through her heart almost immediately.

She's never going to see her again, her best friend, or what could have been more than that. She's never going to apologize or ask for forgiveness or confess about whatever feelings she had to her. Ellie probably assumes that she's dead anyway, so why would she care? Right? After the fight, she might've forgotten about her by now, it's been so long . . . forty-four days? She's adapted well enough in this shit of a world to move on, so why couldn't Riley do the same?

She looks out of the office's window, seeing the moon wink back at her with its pale face. Immediately, she remembers the times where she and Ellie would sneak out of the school for the sole purpose of stargazing. It'd been the best thing to pass the time or to escape from the nightmares that pricked at their backs, it reminded Riley too much of her.

She tears her gaze from the heavenly body.

She's never going to see her. Ellie, the whirlpool-of-emotions Ellie. With her dark reddish hair, her sea of freckles, her bright green eyes, her scarred brow, her contagious laugh, her everything. It's more than Riley can handle, she shuts her eyes tight and bangs the desk with a fist, cursing under her breath as she slumps into her chair in admittance of reality.

...

Maybe she'll understand.  
Maybe, one day, she can forgive her.

* * *

**THE ALTERNATIVE  
by TacoSwimmer**

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
TWO DAYS LATER**

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know what I _could_ have said, now that I think about it.

There were three things that I remember:

A room in a military school.  
Two girls, one on the floor, one standing up.

One of them was supposed to be dead.

There was a switchblade in my hand, a ghostly imprint on the side of my neck, and over there—just by the bed—was Riley.

Riley fucking Abel.

Seeing her with that shuck smile felt indescribable. Seeing her chuckling like it was an everyday thing felt indescribable. Hell, seeing _her _right in front of me felt indescribable.

Riley Abel had been sitting on the ground, her legs were sprawled out, and she was laughing.

Laughing!

I hadn't heard that kind of chuckle in centuries.

It did not help, by the way, that Riley thought the best way to rouse me up from my sleep was to link her goddamned _teeth_ on my goddamned neck.

And it was all in a nice, peaceful, goddamned sleep in the goddamned school which she goddamned left.

I didn't want to know how she had managed to snake her way up to my floor, or how she had practically gone incognito and went Hattori Hanzo on the soldiers. All that I practically cared at the moment, was the fact that she was standing there. In one piece.

Alive.

She was alive.

"You're not gonna kill me, are you?"

I couldn't answer her.

I had been too busy leaving my mouth open and gawking at her because my brain had evolved into a vegetable.

Particularly a potato.

She had those eyes of hers. The brown ones with their darker shades that splintered across her lens, leaving a spoke of coffee-related colors. Looking at them reminded me of a varnished wooden floor with highlights. At times, they would shine, and this was one of those times. They were shining and light and dark and awful and great and bad and good.

And then perhaps I would have killed her. Because she didn't have the right to look that pretty.

I placed the switchblade under my pillow.

"I haven't seen you . . . in I don't even know how long."

I knew, actually, I'd been counting ever since. It'd been, what, forty-fiv—

"Forty-five days." She cut me off. "Well, forty-six, technically . . . "

I looked at her incredulously.  
She knew too. She counted.

There was something that shook inside of me and I couldn't understand what it was.

"Wanna know what I've been up to?"

Riley's hands were in her pockets. Her expression yielded nervousness, which was understandable considering that it wasn't an everyday thing to have your best friend who'd been missing for weeks wake you in the most horrible way ever.

"All this time, I thought you were dead."

And all that time, I'd been sulking.  
All that time, I'd been frustrated and angry and sad and depressed and alone.

Because she left me there. In her room. After a fight that hurt me more than she could have ever thought. She left me and she didn't come back, and I thought that it was just me again. Just Ellie. Just the girl whose friends had all left her behind in the dust.

All that time, I thought she was dead. And I could never let that go.

"Yeah . . . " she said.

That was all she could say.

She didn't give out any apologies for her scornful words during our fight. There weren't any explanations regarding her disappearance. All she could do was look at me with eyes that spoke more than her mouth, and the only thing she could pathetically muster out was a goddamned "Yeah."

I felt beguiled. Betrayed. Because, all this time, I thought she and I had something. A friendship that we could never give up. A relationship that I stupidly thought would bloom into something greater.

But it died.

It died when the fight came about and destroyed our friendship and chances into ashes. The disappearance was what swept up all those ashes, blowing them away into complete and utter nothingness.

But then, unexpectedly, she returned.

And at the moment, she was handing something to me.

A pendant.

She was handing a _pendant_ to me.

"Here," she spoke, "look."

The reflection from the window shone on the chain, and I could see the setting moon on the metal. I traced my fingers on the outlines of the symbol, a symbol that I'd seen too many times that it felt as common as seeing clouds.

"No way."

The Firefly insignia smiled back at me in solemnity. I flipped the chain to its side and read the next text.

_Riley Abel - 000129_

Unbelievable.

"You're a Firefly." I turned to face her, and Riley Abel gave out her all-too-familiar smug smirk, as if confident about her own petty little achievement.

I should be happy for her, because this was her dream. Her goal. It was what she'd been striving for ever since I popped into her life. She became the person she wanted to be, a Firefly.

But I couldn't feel the joy. There was no smile creeping on to my face.

All I could feel was resentment.

Riley handing her Firefly pendant over to me was a subtle way of saying that she _left_ me for the Fireflies.

I wanted to scream at her.

Had she not realized the insurmountable amount of _shit_ she put me through? Had she forgotten about our fight? Our broken relationship? All those hardships she had placed on me so that she could join that stupid _fucking_ militia group?

I clenched the pendant as hard as I could, wishing that it could just melt in my hands.

"You still have it up,"

I looked up and viewed her stance.

It was in her hand, a delicate artifact.

A photograph.

I darted my eyes to the picture, two girls stood to pose in the photo. One pale-skinned, one dark-skinned. Their frozen smiles were staring at me, calling for me.

I hadn't seen those two girls in decades.

* * *

**FLASHBACK  
**

_"Come on!"_ she moaned, dragging out the word.

The girl whom Ellie was assaulting seemed to think differently, since she scoffed and shrugged her away, making Ellie land quite comically onto the floor.

Unscathed, she stood back up, huffing this time. "Let me _see!_" and she tackled Riley's back, snickering like a child.

"Ellie—!"

Gritting her teeth, Ellie tried to look over her shoulder, her arms were swishing wildly at the covered item that Riley had in her hands.

"Later!" she laughed, pushing the redhead away.

A little back story for this memory, set some time after their first trip to the mall. Ellie had hardly noticed that her inevitable birthday was coming up, and for some reason, Riley had sneaked into the Corporal's office to check her records, the girl's day of birth was obviously a part of that document.

Riley was pretty terrible at hiding materialistic objects, and evidence of her shooing Ellie away for almost the whole day and trapping herself in her dorm gave Ellie subtle but easy hints that she was preparing for the 'special' occasion.

"Riley, I already know it's for my birthday." she called to her, Riley turned around and for a split-second, Ellie could see the item, it was concealed with a fabric.

_Crap, so close._

"Oh, shit. That's _today?_" she gasped, her eyes widening.

The younger girl glared at her.

"I'm just fucking with you, El."

"Let me_ see!_" bellowed the redhead, charging at her with full force. They both tumbled to the ground with the younger girl on top. Riley had relinquished the grip, and midst the limbs and profanities, Ellie spotted the wrapped gift topple under Riley's bed.

"A-_ha,_" she exclaimed, extending her arm that was previously headlock-ing her friend's neck. Riley, being as intuitive as ever, knew what she was going to do, and she grabbed Ellie's wrists from under as to restrict her arms from reaching the mysterious object.

"Ellie, can't you wait?" she snickered, ignoring Ellie's hands that were playfully clawing her arms. The redhead shook her head, pushing Riley forcefully to the side (_"Uuf!"_).

When Riley rolled away, it gave Ellie the opportunity that she had wanted. Like a thief, she snatched the object and stood up quickly, unwrapping the cloth that was tied with a ponytail.

When the process was finished, she couldn't believe her eyes.

A strange little rectangular thing, it was. Its dark color had already faded from several years of misuse, but it had the looks that demanded attention. The appearance was unmistakable, it was a Polaroid camera. _A camera._

Ellie looked over at Riley, her eyebrows were furrowed at her as she stood up, dusting her cargo pants from the previous tussle.

Breathing out in awe, Ellie's green eyes were enlarged.

"Holy shit, dude."

"Happy birthday, you dick." she grumbled, the bitterness quickly faded. "Give it here,"

She fumbled around with the camera, putting the lens to her eye and opening up some kind of compartment from behind it. Ellie raised an eyebrow at her, mildly impressed with her tech savvy.

"Where the hell did you manage to get a working camera?" asked the redhead.

Riley shrugged as she fiddled around with it. "I have my ways."

"Oh?" she scoffed. "For a second, I thought you_ borrowed_ again from Winston." Laughing, she air-quoted at her.

"No, I didn't _borrow _again from Winston." Riley mimicked the girl with one hand. "That was like, one time, by the way."

She snapped the compartment shut, smirking triumphantly at her handiwork.

"There." Riley exclaimed, beaming at the gift. "Ellie, c'mere!"

"What're you gonna do?"

"Obviously, I'm checking to see if it can serve me complimentary dishes." she answered back. "Jesus, Ellie, we're taking a picture with it, you fuckwit."

She tried to open her mouth to protest, but then realized that there wasn't really much to object about. For reasons she couldn't understand, Ellie had felt a couple of butterflies in her stomach the moment the both of them stood to pose. Riley held the camera slightly upwards as its front faced them. She handled its position carefully until they could see their reflections on the lens.

Ellie realized from the lens that she'd been staring at Riley.

A blush crept up to her cheeks as the older girl told her to smile. For a millisecond, time froze, and the world stopped rotating.

What was just important at that moment, was them.

She and Riley. Together. Smiling. Happy. Like how it was supposed to be. How it always should be.

Ellie, unaware, smiled even brighter.

The flash blinded them for a split second, and the photograph slid out shortly after.

She handed her the photo, and Ellie gawked at it, treasuring the picture more than the camera itself. It didn't have much use now that the film was gone, anyway. The redhead smiled stupidly, until Riley had decided to interrupt.

"Well?" she questioned, as if waiting for a well-deserved thank-you. "Do you like it?"

Ellie knew that a thank-you wasn't enough.

Without her own consent, she wrapped both her arms around Riley's neck, her head buried on her shoulder. The older girl stiffened, but eased to rest.

"It's amazing," she whispered. "Thank you."

They seldom did anything like this, but she didn't object. Riley eventually did the same as she welcomed the embrace, her arms and hands subconsciously caressing the redhead. They said no words during the duration, but the embrace remained for the longest amount of time.

And although they would break away soon, both wished that it had never ended.

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

They were just memories.

We couldn't be like that again.

I brushed past Riley and opened the door, looking at both hallways to ensure myself that there were no soldiers monitoring the soon-to-end curfew.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I closed the door, careful to not make too much of a noise.

"I'm making sure I don't get caught with a Firefly in my room."

A sigh of mellowed frustration escaped her lips.

"Relax. There are no soldiers on the entire floor."

Because, of course, a military school would definitely not have any of its personnel walking around the campus, especially in the wee hours of the morning.

If she assumed that I was going to forgive her that easily for the things she said to me before, then I wasn't buying it.

I clenched the Firefly pendant and handed it over to her with spite.

"Here, congrats."

But Riley gripped my hand tightly before I could yank it back.

"Hey_—_"

And then we were frozen.  
Neither of us couldn't let go.

I was focusing on her profile again. And the way her brown-shaded eyes were gazing at me.

I felt so sheepishly stupid.

"Are we cool?" she asked, uncouthly letting go of the grip.

I looked at her in disbelief.

"_Are we cool?_"

Riley closed her eyes and let out a breath.

"I disappeared and you're mad_—_"

I interrupted her with a scoff.  
_  
"_—_and_ I owe you an explanation." She walked towards the chair and grabbed my jeans that rested on it. "Look, let's get outta here and I'll tell you all about it."

She woke me up in the most incredulous ways possible, she basically shrugged off the fact that I wasn't reacting the way she expected, and now, she wanted me to frolic along with her in the early hours of the day?

I began to question why I had easily complied to her orders before.

"It's almost morning—and I have military drills. You know, where we learn how to kill Fireflies?" I said, half-joking, half-probably-meaning-it. Riley rolled her eyes and tossed me the jeans.

"Put some pants on and let's go."

I gave out an exasperated sigh and walked over to the bedside, unwillingly doing what was told, just like old times.

Resisting was futile, and I knew that too damn well.

"I'm so dumb,"

"Now come on," Riley said, opening the door.

"When have we ever gotten into trouble?"

* * *

We were outside again.

The city of Boston greeted me with its foul-smelling exhaust from the factory, along with the bazillion other scents of gunpowder, oppression, death, infected, et cetera, et cetera. That fact that I didn't have lung cancer yet was a wondrous miracle.

Oh, you know what else was a miracle?

That Riley was alive, and that she was actually _goading_ me to go with her outside of the fucking school like we had always done many, many lifetimes ago.

I wasn't smiling, though.

"What're we doing, Riley?" I asked curtly, we climbed a ladder that leaned on a wall of an abandoned building, reaching a lower cutoff of an outer staircase. This was our usual route, and I had some notion in knowing what place we were going to.

"It's a surprise." she grunted, clambering to get on top of the roof. _Of course,_ I thought, _because the mall definitely isn't the place you're taking me to._ I climbed up without ease, looking at her confidently with smug.

"Someone's been working out, huh?" She smirked, that anarchic, illegal smirk. Exhaustion was plastered on her face, beads of sweat trickled down her forehead in that really, really photogenic type of way.

This was getting ridiculous. Over-the-top ridiculous. But I gawked open-mouthed at her anyway.

Eventually, after eyeing her, I decided to give the good ol' silent treatment, telepathically telling her that that smirk of hers wasn't going to work on me and that she could just jump off of the rooftop that we were in and never come back.

Unfortunately, Riley's telepathic skill was insufficient.  
"Alright, just gonna leave me hanging?" she queried playfully.

The only response she received were the raindrops' pelting sounds.

"Okay, Ellie, I get it." she sighed, disappointed at my quietness.

I walked ahead and surveyed the environment around us. You could see nothing but bundles of decimated buildings and black puffs of smoke arising from the ground. The air smelled of burnt rubber, but I had grown use of such despised scents that I couldn't be bothered to complain about it. If 'beautiful' couldn't match the view, then 'breathtaking' would. (No, it was literally breathtaking. Jesus, have you smelled the damn city?).

Suddenly, I heard Riley's footsteps behind me, going faster and louder by the second. By the time I could look back, her shoulder collided with mine. _Boom. _I saw my mind explode into colors.

"Hey_—_!"

I spun around, stunned by the impact. Riley, who was ahead of me, was using that goddamn smirk as compensation for my bruised shoulder.

"Thought that you could go faster than me?" She was laughing now. God, help me. "Williams, you never fail to disappoint."

And before I could be given the chance to speak my mind, Riley Abel raised her hand and lifted her forefinger, as if saying, _Come a little closer_ in the most cloying type of crooning. But no, she wasn't trying to seduce me, as much as I wanted but not wanted to at the back of my head.

She was holding my ponytail using her forefinger.

"You should let your hair down more, by the way."  
And then she was winking.

...

Aside from focusing way too much on her wink and her everything, I started to analyze the black little circle that hung tightly to Riley's finger. _Oh._

It was_ my_ ponytail.

Suddenly, my dark reddish locks freaking flew and scattered across my face since apparently, the whole world—and the wind—had decided to fuck me over just on this particular day. Having my hair down was not common, hell, even in sleep I practically had it tied. It was one of my little idiosyncrasies, plus, it kept the back of my neck from getting hot.

So, when I had realized that my hair was down, and that Riley was seeing _me_ with _my_ hair down, I blushed.

I freaking blushed.

Riley must've saw it, because she was laughing even harder.

"What the _fuck?!_" I yelled, taken aback by the force of the impact—_and_ the realization. On that day, I had convinced myself of being the world's most embarrassing human being on the planet, not even Fraser Huntington could beat my reputation. No one could.

I groped my untied hair frantically, holding it back to a ponytail position with one hand.  
That fucking asshole.

"Riley, give it back!" I yelped, anger and coyness filling my insides.

"If you could outrun me," She winked, jumping onto the roof of another building, "I think I'll consider it!" And then she sped off, with her breezy laughs following suit and flying in the air as it whipped my locks around mercilessly.

_Okay, that's how she wanted to play it._

So I pursued, determinate anger filling my insides.

"Oh, I'm going to outrun you, all right." I muttered, my fists pumping as each sprint strode by. "And then you'll be fucking _wishing_ that you should've stayed missing."

My hair was desperately trying to get itself into my mouth; but I ignored, focusing more on our speed as we jumped from roof to roof. Maybe I had been _too_ focused, because as soon as the fourth jump to another rooftop came along, my foot slipped, causing my momentum to stagger and fail tremendously.

Unfortunately for me, I was about to jump at that moment.

I couldn't stop my propulsion, it was sort of like a train that couldn't slow down fast enough. My speedy-as-fuck feet had led me to the air, where it seemed that I had lifted off as soon as I touched the edge of the roof.

I was flailing, screaming, and gliding mid-air, all at the same time. Everything became a blur, and the next thing I knew, I had felt this cement-ish pain hit my sides as I found myself clinging to the edge of the roof. Whoa, didn't really see this coming. I took a deep breath, trying to process what was happening.

I was _dangling_ off of the edge of a building's roof.

_Okay, okay, don't panic._ I thought, _don't look down, Ellie. Don't look down._

But I did the exact fucking opposite anyway, because I was apparently a rebel and no matter how hard I tried, I would always do things that seemed to be a hundred times more dissimilar than what I had intended to do. The fact that my life was literally hanging on a thread—more like a building—wasn't helping.

I hated to admit it back then, but I needed Riley more than ever.

"Riley!" I would've shouted, only she had arrived four times quicker than I could ever expected. She sprinted as soon as my fingers clenched onto the roof, holding for dear life. Her brown eyes were a rush and alert, even her dark skin seemed to glow pale from the anxiety. I gritted my teeth, my feet swimming around the air and occasionally colliding with the building's wall.

"Shit," hissed my rescuer, "Ellie, hold up, hold up. I'll uh—. . . shit. Just, stay calm—"

I was being rebellious again, for I was yelling.  
It was the embarrassing kind of yelling. Not high-pitched, fortunately.

"—Ellie, Ellie!" Riley was reaching down now, her arm extended toward me. "Grab on, and I'll— I'll pull, okay?"

I gripped her arm, firm and lean, but I supposed that it wasn't the time to be examining and drooling over physically attractive arms. There were more important things.

Like my life, for instance, and the fact that I was hanging off of a fucking building.

Riley had pulled me back onto the roof, and we ended up doubling over, with our breaths panting and tired. My heartbeat_—_which had hammered a billion times per millisecond the moment I slipped—started to slow down. Riley huffed, coughing and wiping the sweat off her forehead with her physically gifted bionic arm that had managed to pull up a probably 90-100 pound girl.

"You're welcome." she said, half-grinning, half-panting.

"Yeah, okay." I collected my senses and walked ahead of her, descending the nearest flight of stairs that led to the ground below. Riley followed suit, her expression mirroring one that telepathically said that she was disappointed at my ungratefulness.

"Oh, sure. _Definitely_ don't need to thank me, especially since I've just saved your life like, five minutes ago. Nope, no thanks needed at all." she spoke up, after minutes of silence.

Of course, because she—the girl who I believed had deserted me without a moment's notice, leaving me emotionally devastated, angry, and worried about her well-being, only to come back more than a month later and acting as if nothing had ever happened between us—needed my thanks.

What a fucking cad. A lousy fucking cad, rebel, miscreant, hooligan, ne'er do well, juvenile delinquent, good-for-nothing teenage girl whom I had unfortunately developed feelings for. Yeah, that's right. I actually _developed_ feelings for her, as if I was developing a goddamn disease. And until now, it's the most horrible, frustrating, anger-provoking thing that I have ever felt, right next to the fact that I hated her guts at the same time.

Riley Abel was like a fucking thunderstorm. A signal for darker days, a catastrophically inevitable asshat that tended to mow over your morning.

Though even so, I kept coming right back at her.

* * *

**Thank you all for reaching the end of the first chapter! I will you see in the next :)  
-Taco**


	2. Bliss

**Author's Note:  
**

**Wow, never really expected this much feedback. Thank you, I really am grateful!**

**Also, I skipped! Sorry, we fast-forwarded a bit and are picking up after the fight at Raja's Arcade.  
Please continue on reading!**

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**Chapter Two: Bliss**

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"Goddammit." I whispered, banging my foot into the old arcade machine.

Why did you have to be so stubborn?

...

Why?

...

Why were you going to leave me again? _Alone?_

...

Were you _that_ selfish?

Do you know how painful it was, for me to wake up in my bed, to get myself ready for the military drills, and to pass by your dorm every single morning and checking to see if you were there?

Every time, I would hold my breath, place my hand on your doorknob, and I would open it just to check if there was a lump on the bed that would indicate your presence.

But you were never there, Riley.

You packed up with only your backpack and went off, like you've forgotten about me. Like you've forgotten about everything.

_Everything._

Do you know how painful it was for me to cope with the murmurs and whispers?

_Where's Riley? _they would say. _What happened?  
__They say she just . . . disappeared all of a sudden, I dunno._

_What about Ellie?_

Yeah, Riley, what about me? Did you forget to bring me along when you left?  
_  
Pipe down, will you? She's right fuckin' there._

They continued the whispers anyway, even if I was in their vicinity. How sensitive.

Every day, Riley. Those forty-five or _forty-whatever-the-hell_ days of you not being there, there was always an empty spot in the canteen where you and I and Tino and the rest would eat. Sometimes, I didn't even bother sitting there, even if they insisted.

And then one day, I overheard it.  
It was the rumors again.

_Screw it, it's been too long. Riley's dead. _they hissed. _She probably got fucking killed trying to run off with the Fireflies._

Did you hear that, Riley? Because I sure as hell did.  
Hearing what they were saying had made me furious. I've never seen my own blood rise up in such short time. How _dare_ they even try? To assume that you were gone, just like that? They didn't even _know_ you.

So I told them—more like screamed at them—that they were lying, and that they could shut their mouths and stick one up the rear. But Fraser, fucking _Fraser Huntington_ had to push me to the wall, his piggy little finger on my chest, telling me the words that would have made me want to squish him right there, on the spot.

_"Face it, Williams, she's been gone for three goddamn weeks. She ain't never coming back. Never."_

Needless to say, I didn't punch Fraser Huntington that day.  
Rather, I pushed him away from me and ran back to the mall.

It was silly.

Because I should have been used to it.

I was used to people using me.

I was used to people lying to me.

Disappointing me.

Breaking me.

Walking out of my life.

...

I was used to all of it.

It wasn't a surprise for me to have claimed that it was. Because it shouldn't have been.

The only thing that surprised me was that I found myself crying.

In the mall, where you had always brought me to. Right there, petting Princess' mane with an uncertain care.

I seldom cried.

I hated crying in front of anyone.

Maybe since I always thought of myself as the strong one.

The brave one.  
The one with the mean-looking eyebrow scar.  
The one that never wept.

But now?

Now I had been crying my heart out.

And I hated it that no one'd noticed how broken I'd been.

When you suddenly appeared back in my life, with your goofy smile and your shuck attitude, I was _this_ close to hugging you, crying on you, telling you on how I so dearly missed you, that you meant and still are the world to me.

But you had acted like everything prior to your leaving was fictional. The fight. My struggle with your disappearance, you didn't even ask me how I was.

Instead, you decided to play 'infected' on me and bite me on my fucking neck like it was just another regular day in the school.

And that was what had pissed me off the most.

...

When I eventually snaked my way out of the judgmental stares of the mannequins, you were there, Riley. Your back was facing me, you were taking in all the sights of the store. From its hovering toy airplanes to the soft music that hummed itself on our ears, you were sucking it all up.

"You ever seen anything like it?"

Here you were again, avoiding the topic, trying to let me forget about the shit you had put me through.

You weren't avoiding this one.

"Are we just done talking?"  
"I don't know. Are we?"

Oh-ho, we've just started.

"You don't get to be pissed at me. I'm pissed off at _you._"  
"For what?" you quickly replied. "Asking you what you think?"

And then I glared at you, my mouth agape.

"When have you ever cared about what I think?" I argued, emotions pouring out of my words, "We were _good._"

We gazed at each other for a while.

" . . . we were better than good . . . and then you told me to _fuck off,_ and then you just up and vanished."

...

"This . . . whole day . . ."

This whole day, Riley, you'd been trying to get on my good side.

And while you successfully did, you showed me your true intentions, to why you came back, to why you brought me back to the mall, because you were _leaving_ me again.

But this time, you wanted to leave with a souvenir. A remembrance of me.

You wanted to see me, that's what you said, right? One final time before you would go ahead and join the dream team to fight off the military. You wanted to see my face.

And I wished that you could have just stayed 'dead'.

"You feel guilty?"

I looked back at you.

"You want an out? I'm—I'm giving it to you."

And then, Riley, you continued to gaze at me, scoffing indignantly.

"I'm supposed to be holed up on the other side of town, I get caught as a Firefly, I'm _dead._ Guilt didn't make me cross a city full of soldiers, Ellie."

...

"And yeah," you continued, "I did some shit that I don't know how to take back, but . . . I'm trying."

I know you didn't mean those words during that fight. I knew you were just frustrated, but it had left quite a mark on me. Your bitterness had resided in my conscience, living there for a period of several days. And slowly, I absorbed your harshness and made it my own, and until now I was struggling to spit it out, to completely rid of it from my body.

"Speaking of . . . "

And then you threw it on the floor from your backpack, clattering, I saw a pair of bright neon green and orange toys.

Fuck.

". . . those water guns you've been dreaming of?"

_Fuck._

"I nearly got shot for these._ Surprise_."

There they were, my dream toys. Those water guns that I've seen in so many tarpaulins and billboards, wishing to God that I would die happy just holding one in my hand.

And let me tell you, Riley, when I held that water gun in my hand, that _dream_ gun, it was surreal. Never had I experienced so much happiness and guilt flow through my veins before. I concealed the smirk well enough for you to not notice, but inside, I was jumping.

...

Some dreams did come true, but in this world it was a pretty bittersweet type of feeling.

...

My inner-child was speaking to me. She wanted me to take a swing with those bad boys. _Just once, _she said, _just once, for the love of God._

And what better if it was to test it with you, Riley?

"Okay," I said, "first . . . I'm gonna destroy you."

I handed you the other gun.

"And then we'll talk."

Your gaze remained, and I could sense that smirk coming.  
And it did, like it would never disappoint.

"You're about to get drenched." you said. You were laughing, grinning, and I didn't realize that there was a smile on my face as well.

"Let's see what you got, Firefly-girl."

Minutes passed, then it seemed like hours. The mall was our playground, we did almost everything here. My skin was drenched in water and I could hear your uncontrollable giggles every now and then. I guess it was contagious, because it'd affected me, and you ended up shooting me since I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

But I knew I had to go, and you needed to leave soon.  
I didn't want you to leave, damn it.

When the last gunfight had ended, you looked at me with a wet, grinning face.

"You wanna play again?" you asked with brown eyes twinkling. God, Riley, could you try and stop making them do that?

...

"I do, I just . . . "

_I just couldn't stay._

"You gotta go back."

_And you would have to leave me. Again._

"I gotta go back . . ."

_And I would have to resort to being alone for the rest of my time in the school._

"Okay, fine." Your eyes looked dour. "Can I at least walk you home?"

I tugged the side of my mouth. You know, the way you said it seemed like we were _dating.  
_Hey, a little fantasizing didn't hurt anyone.

"I guess."

We were quiet as we returned to our backpacks, and I swayed the toy in my hand from left to right as I started to contemplate on everything. You were going away to someplace that I had no knowledge of. You'd leave me again, and I'd be on my own.

But that's what you wanted, right? Joining the Fireflies? Even before I stepped into your life you'd been planning ever since.

Riley, your room was _plastered_ with wanted posters of Marlene, and I scolded you and took them down before Corporal Dickhead would find out. If this was what you wanted, what you always dreamed of, then I couldn't take that happiness away.

Selfish or not, I still loved you enough to let you go.

"Hey, so . . . "

...

"I said it like an asshole but . . . I totally meant it."

"You should go." I paused. "And this is something you've wanted for . . . you know, forever. So, who am I to stop you?"

Your eyes lifted to meet mine. "The one person that can."

_Goddammit._

You were doing it again, Riley. What the _hell_ did you want from me? Did you want me to beg for you to stay?

Because, you know, I could just do that.

"Nooo, please _don't_ go, I'll be _so_ miserable without youuu_._"

For the record, it was true. I'd been so stupid to let an idiotic little crush grow into something more. I fell into the trap and got attached, not knowing the consequences of what I was going to face.

"I'll be fine,"—not really—"and you'll be fine. And we'll see each other again."

...

You looked at the pair of water guns, and without hesitation, you handed them to me.  
"You should keep these, not gonna do me any good."

Thankful, I placed them in my backpack. They were pretty hard to fit in, but I managed.

"You still lug that Walkman around?" you asked out of topic, but not questioning, I responded back.

"Always."  
"Let me see it."

I handed it over shortly after, "Here."

"What's in it?"

"That tape you gave me."  
And then you giggled, nudging my shoulder as you walked past me.

"You really will be miserable without me."

"Shut up." Just shut up, you were leaving and I knew that I was going to be more than miserable without you, you bastard.

But it seemed that you weren't done for the day yet, because you had a plan.

"Leave that, follow me."

"What're we doin'?" I questioned, because at that time I was oblivious, and if whatever you were planning was prolonging our time together, then I was okay with it.

"You'll see."

The other part of the department store was full of electronics and other machines that left me to wonder why I wasn't born before the pandemic. You walked over to a shelf with an array of DVD players, holding up the Sony Walkman, you grabbed a cord from the player, plugging it in the Walkman's audio output hole.

Now, with the cord in, there was only the play button to press.

And you did just that.

The music had conveniently erupted from the speakers on the walls and sides, the bass silently vibrated the floor like a heartbeat's rhythm.

"Yeah!" you beamed, snapping your fingers to the tune. Trying to set the mood, you got up on the glass display beside us and started to dance foolishly.

Abel, you were _such_ an adorable nincompoop.

"What are you **—** really?" I couldn't help but smile.

"C'mere!"

Being the killjoy I was, I blatantly refused.

"Get your ass up here."

And reluctantly—but willingly at the same time— I did.

"This is so stupid . . . "

Everything we had done was stupid.

The singer from the song started to vocalize, I had already memorized the lyrics the second you had handed the tape to me, like it was something sacred.

Well, the song _was_ special, it was a gift after all, wasn't it, Riley?

_People say that we don't know  
What love is or how to make it grow  
Well, I don't know if all that's true  
'Cause you got me and baby, I got you  
Oh babe_

"Come on!" you goaded me, grabbing my hands and guiding me as we both started to dance foolishly to the music. I laughed uncontrollably, twisting and turning and clapping my hands to the beat. The lyrics again filled my ears,

_I got you babe,  
I got you babe_

Goddammit.

Riley, that day had been such a fucking roller coaster. Somehow, just somehow, you were able to bring me back up from that bitter hole that you placed me in without even trying. How could you do that?

How, how in the world were you able to tear me down and lift me back up?

How did you make _me_ fall for you?

...

It suddenly hit me.

Shit.

It hit me, Riley, it hit me as hard as the time when Fraser had punched the living lights out of me. You were the only person I had, the only person that I cared about, that I _loved._

I couldn't afford to lose you, it would be too much.  
Please, you couldn't disappear from my life.

Not again. Please, not again.

"Here—" you interrupted, grabbing my arms, the music just acting as a void around us.  
But you sensed it.

"What is it?"

...

"Hey..."

You were nearing me.

"What's wrong?"

When looking at you, Riley, I shook my head.

Why?

...

Because you were the girl whom I had the misfortune to fall in love with.

...

I mentally cursed my own stupid, banal, cheesy mind. To wonder how and why on earth I had even placed myself into this goddamned mess. Love is a complicated thing, my dear, and it has the tendency to break whatever was in you until you were down and on the ground.

But I still looked at you, eyes yearning for you to stay with me. I didn't want to be left behind, to be alone, to never have the feeling of being loved. Loneliness, such a plain word, but the fear I had for it was great. I couldn't let that feeling of loneliness bite back at me.

I couldn't get broken again.

"Don't go," I pleaded, voice as soft as a rolling leaf.

And then you returned the gaze, your soft, coffee-stained eyes on my green ones.  
There was a feeling of connection, Riley, like connecting two, broken wires and placing them back together.

Shockingly, without effort, you tore the pendant from your neck and threw it on the ground. And you smirked back at me like it had been the easiest thing you had done in your life.

_Wow._

_..._

_You did it._

The realization sent a wave of emotions rolling to me, overwhelming my senses. All those months of you telling me how you always wanted to join the Fireflies, how you dreamed of being one of those mercenaries in a dense crowd of rebels, how you wanted so badly to take on Corporal Dickhead yourself, and retrieve those water guns that he'd stolen from us.

Even after getting yourself served by Marlene, you hadn't deterred from that goal. You became a Firefly, it was served to you on a silver platter.

But instead, you threw that plate on the ground and shattered it into a million pieces.  
And it was all because of my two words.

You were staying. You were staying with me.

Without thinking, I leaned in and closed my eyes.

My mind was telling me a billion things, like how it was going to backfire and end disastrously, how you would reject and shun me away, and how this would probably be the biggest mistake I'd ever do in my teenage life.

I didn't care, my disbelief and urge was so strong. It'd felt like my heart had burst the second you threw that pendant on the ground.

Because of that, I kissed you, Riley.  
I kissed you because I didn't care and that you were the biggest asshole to have ever lived on Earth.

But I loved you, and I still do.

...

Now, one may wonder how it would have felt kissing a person that they've always wanted to kissed. It was a mixture of emotions that I couldn't really capture, emotions that would explode the second I had felt them.

In short, it was indescribable.

It was inconceivable.

It was _amazing._

Kissing you, Riley, was like getting trapped in a hurricane of my own emotions, and I wasn't even bothered.

_..._

You tensed, and I could already sense the blush arising on your cheeks. I kept my eyes closed, mainly because I wanted the feeling to linger and partially because I didn't want to see your reaction.

When my lips parted from yours, your expression was a mix of surprise and glee, but due to my conscience bashing me of how terrible of an idea it was, I took it that you were appalled.

"Sorry." I whispered, hoping that somehow you weren't about to walk out of the room in shock.

But you just stood there, and the sweetest, shuck-faced grin had formed on your lighted face.

"For what?"

Surprisingly, Riley, not all dreams were acquired in bittersweet manners.

* * *

**Ohmygod please take a deep breath before you proceed to the next chapter jesus christ I love this pairing so much thank you all for reading please leave a review for what you think and I know that i'm not using any commas so I'm sorry if that irks you goODBYE  
**


	3. Inevitable

**A/N IN POST-SCRIPT.**

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**Chapter Three: Inevitable**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

My cheeks were flushed, never had I experienced something so sensual and wonderful. It felt like a new beginning, Riley, you had just given up her Firefly status, and for what?

To stay with me.

The thought of it made my own stomach turn.

Shaking my head, I looked back up at you, as if waiting for your say.  
"What do we do now?"

...

"We'll figure it out." you said, and it all felt too unreal. "But... I don't think Marlene's gonna go for it—"

An unorganized sound of swift footsteps were emitted to my right.

"Wait,"

The sound of low moans filled the room, sending unwanted shudders from top to bottom.

Shit.

_Infected._

Of fucking course. As soon as I thought that everything would turn out fine, I was given the complete opposite. My incredibly annoying conscience —whom just seconds ago was cheering for me— was nudging and poking at my shoulder, repeating the words 'I told you so!' in a childish tone.

My moral sense was right, though. God, looking back, we were stupid enough to lure all those infected into a singular room because a love song was blasting out of the speakers.

We'd been forcefully dragged back to reality, and it didn't seem to be too happy with our little moment.

The Runner appeared, its horrid outline disgusted me already. It turned its head wickedly to where we stood, its body was covered in fungal elements, the creature growled and sprinted towards the display case.

I called out your name in fright, backing away from the creature. And while you stood your ground, you got the gun from your pocket and aimed for its head.

_BANG_

The noise pierced through the air, flinching as I saw the monster's head obliterate into chunks of flesh, falling down lifelessly to the linoleum floor.

"Holy crap."

"Shit. Ellie, c'mon, we gotta get outta here!" you ordered, jumping off of the display case.

It was incredulous, how quick and abrupt our moment had ended.  
_  
Why was fate so cruel to us, Riley? Why?_

As we terrifyingly ran to the nearest exit, the moans of the infected were behind us, and I could see the shadows coming closer each second. Ready to pounce. Ready to eat us up.

I had never been so scared in my life.

We headed to another room, it was similar to the mannequin one. With frantic hands, you grabbed a large crate closest to our direction.

"Quick, barricade the door!" you said, and I helped in pushing the crate, the speakers in the room kept playing the song, as if haunting us.

_I got you babe,  
I got you babe_

_..._

"Ellie! Let's go!"

Right. Escape.  
Snapping out of my trance, I followed you.

We ran, we zoomed past parking lots and trucks, having encountered multiple Runners and having to kill them brutally. I remember it, when that one fucker had got you pinned to the wall, and I sunk my switchblade in its neck repetitively, too repetitively, in fact.

"Wow," you said, completely amazed at my fury.

Huffing, I took a good look at my first infected kill, it was a proud and brief moment, might I tell you.

"All right, c'mon!" I grunted, sounding too exuberant.

And then we sprinted off into another direction, the infected slithered through the different pathways and were chasing us again. Everywhere I turned, there were Runners blocking the way; we were surrounded.

Shit.

"Jump off the railing!" you yelled, having already jumped. I landed quite a few feet below and found myself having to leap at another meter-long gap. You were already on the other side, waiting for me.

At that time, I wasn't so confident with my agility. But it was either stay and get eaten by the Runners, or attempt to jump and reach the other side.

Obviously, I chose the latter.

Taking a deep breath, I ran for a quick boost. I lifted my feet off the floor and outstretched my arms towards the platform, feeling air escaping my lungs as I was flailed around mid-jump.

For a second, I was a bird, and I landed mercilessly with the lower-part of my body dangling off.

"Ellie!"

In a daze, I finally recollected my senses.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just keep going!"

I pushed myself up and the both of us sprinted across. Surely, the infected couldn't make that jump.

But as I looked to my right, there were just hordes of them coming right at us.  
_Fucking hell._

"There's an open window straight ahead, come on!" you said, hopping over a small fence. I followed hurriedly as we tried with all our willpower to reach the exit.

My legs were practically aching, my chest had been heaving in and out, dealing with the rapid breaths of air was hellish.

And when you eventually scaled up before me, I tried to climb the scaffolding, about to grab onto your hand that you were offering down.

_Fortunately_ for me, the weight started to make me fall backwards.  
"Oh, God—"

"Give me your hand!"

Too late.

I fell on the lower platform, my whole body aching tremendously as I landed the second time. My back met with the rigid puddle below me, and I writhed in agony.

"Ellie!"

The pain was quite short-lived, for the next thing I knew, I was being tackled by another Runner.

_What a wonderful day, it was._

"Get... off...!" I squirmed, the monster was biting and clawing the air furiously, wanting so bad to get a piece of me.

"Riley!"

Grabbing the switchblade from my pocket, I desperately attempted to sink it down to its neck. As I struggled to do so, you managed to jump down just in time, your gun was aimed at the infected's head.

_BANG_

And all went silent.

...

...

I stared at the corpse, its mouth was hanging open. The sight left me with shudders and I turned back to you, exhaustion filling all the spots that hadn't been filled yet.

"I think it's clear." I said, looking around for any more infected.

..

..

But Riley, you weren't responding. And when I was starting to notice that you'd been silent, I turned my head back at you, perplexed eyes meeting your shocked ones.

They were shaking.

And they were fixed on my right arm.

"Are you okay?" I asked, anxious to hear the answer.

...

"Ellie..." you whispered, eyes still glued on it.  
"Ellie, your arm."

Oh, shit.

No.

With mammoth unwillingness, I dropped my eyes down to my right forearm, seeing that it'd been slathered with blood.

Oh, fuck.

Swiping the blood away, my skin had advertised the teeth marks of the Runner, red blood oozing out of the torn flesh like it was over-spilling.

In disbelief, I dropped the switchblade to the ground.

_Clatter, clatter._

...

...

...

"No..." I whispered.

The red liquid kept seeping out of the wound, not accepting to take my own refusal.

"No, no, no, no!"

I wiped the blood off, but it came back.  
So I did it again.

And again,  
and again,  
and again.

But with each wipe, it had somehow encouraged the blood to flow out more freely, as if it was shouting at me to suck it up and believe the fact.

The fact that I was bitten.

_..  
.._

That I was going to die.

I felt myself slowly withering into nothing, I was on my knees, my eyes were downcast.

_So that's it? This is how I die?_

After getting through this excuse of a day, I get rewarded with a lethal bite on my arm? After all the happiness that I had felt, it'd been exchanged with complete and utter grief?

Was the world _that_ cruel?

I clenched my fists. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair.

What had I ever done to the world? What did I ever do that made me deserve this... this curse?

Grabbing my switchblade from the ground, I glared at the corpse that bit me.

_You were the one responsible._

Beause of this fucking _thing_, I would now spend the rest of my short hours shriveling up and dying. My goals of running off with you, Riley, weren't achievable.

My death wasn't going to be anything heroic, or moving at the least; I was going to die in this fucking mall in the most hackneyed death any human could have in this sorry excuse of a world.

_Death by infection,_ how redundant.

The sense of control had lost itself in my mind, and I lifted my arm, yelling loudly.

"Fuck!"

The switchblade sank into the rotting corpse of the infected.

"Fuck you!"

I withdrew it, only to sink it back down a second time.

"Fuck the world!"

_A third time._

"Fuck _EVERYTHING!_"

I was hysterical, each stab wasn't enough to satiate my anger, my hatred. Blood had soiled my clothes, and I didn't care, the only thing that I could hear were the sounds of my own switchblade digging its teeth on the Runner's skin.

_Shink,  
Shink,  
Shink,  
Shink,_

"Ellie..." you spoke up, and I almost didn't notice that you were still there. Your voice was crumbling.

But I couldn't hear you, Riley. My yells were distracting me from focusing, and I couldn't help myself. I kept stabbing the Runner, its blood already on my face and body. I prayed that it would be erased, thinking that maybe if I stabbed it enough, the bite on my arm would suddenly disappear.

A foolish thought.

_"Ellie!"_  
You grabbed my arms from the back, trying to stop me from doing anything else.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

"Pull yourself together!—"  
"LET GO!"

This madness, this craziness, it was unnecessary. I'm sorry, Riley, that you had to see me like that, as if I was an Infected already.

But you ignored my hysteria. With a calmness like no other, you turned to me as you cupped my face, your worn-out eyes were filled with distraught.

There was something about your eyes that made me stop in my disturbing frenzy. They looked mesmerizing and captivating, but in my moment of grief, I wasn't fully able to absorb that information, though it was enough to keep me still.

"Look at me," you whispered, the tone soothing me a little, "please."

And so I did.  
We gazed upon each other once again, your soft, brown eyes on my crazy, green ones.

...

Those eyes.

I was _never_ going to see them again.

And the thought of that crushed me, Riley.

It crushed _every_ single future opportunity for us. We would never be able to grow from this crazy relationship. I would never hold your hand, or laugh at your horrible jokes, or get mad at your shuck attitude, or do anything that you and I would have wanted to do together.

But the worst of all?  
I was going to be permanently alone.

"Riley..." I sobbed, tears flowing down my cheeks.

"Oh," you said quietly, embracing me with affection. "Shh, I'm here, I'm here."

Your hug, your embrace, it pushed me to the barrier, and the tears flew out and I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth exchanged between us.

Even if I was bitten, Riley, you stayed with me. You held me close, and you told me that you had me in your arms, and that you were there, forever and always.

It was a lie. A cheesy fucking lie.

Sniffing loudly, I looked up at you, and your eyes had never left me.

"..Riley?" I mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"Don't go." I pleaded, burying my face on your shoulder. "Please... don't... don't leave me."

...

And then, you did it again.

"I'm here, Ellie." you assured me, placing your chin on the top of my head.

...

"I promise, I'm not leaving your side."_  
_

* * *

**Please take the one-way trip to Feeladelphia before proceeding to the next chapter.  
Thank you and have a wonderful day.**


	4. O Children

**A/N in post-script**

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**Chapter Four: O Children**

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* * *

**8:13 AM**

One painful hour after my infection. You and I, Riley, we sat there. Entwined, enveloped, you were holding me, swaying the two of us back and forth.

There were many times in which you tried to lift me up silently, but like a rock, I sank down. You didn't argue back when I wrapped myself around you, because I was scared that I'd let you go, and I'd never get you back again.

...

After a while, you told me—gently, kindly— to stand up, "Let's clean that wound," you said. But I refused, because what good was it then? I was infected, my death was inevitable.

But Riley, you're always so persistent, aren't you? With your thumb, you wiped a stained tear out of my cheek, and you told me again—more softly than the previous—to stand up.

I complied.

With my shaking hand on your firm arm, you got me on both feet. The weakness travelling around my body could've probably been the infection, or my own exhaustion from our attempt to run out of that mall. I staggered around, you caught me silently, giving me balance.

"I got you," you assured me. "Don't worry, I got you."

Funny, how similar your words were at that time to that tape that you gave me.  
It's trivial, I know, but at least I found it even _mildly_ interesting.

And then, after you and I got on both feet, I started to cough.  
Your stomach was dropping, Riley.

_Oh, shit,_ you might've thought. _She's getting worse._

"I just need some water." I said in that coarse, dried up voice that sounded like one of our teachers back at the school. Yes, dehydration. Surely, I just needed to drink, right?

You weren't entirely convinced, but the doubt was replaced with your sudden desperate search for a potable beverage.  
Then, the realization hit you like a bus.

"Shit," you hissed under the humid, infected air.

"What?"

"The water, we left it in the backpacks."

Of course we did.  
You offered an idea, "We can head back," you said.

"What, and get a free bite on your arm, too?"  
"I'm not letting you die of dehydration."

"You're right," I replied depressingly, "I'd rather turn."

Your grip on me tightened, but just slightly. _"Ellie."_

I guess you didn't like dark humor at that time, Abel.

Needless to say, you somehow persuaded me to come along with you back to the mall. I didn't know what was going on in my mind, but the trip back seemed relatively short, as I only recalled the sensation of our hands weaved together as we walked back to the display case.

The infected were nowhere to be found. Good fucking riddance.

The songs in your tape had stopped playing, and instead of the loud, upbeat music that had previously foretold my doom, it was replaced with a constant static. The Walkman could only reset its tunes manually.

I lugged over to where my Walkman was while you went ahead and grabbed our backpacks. Unplugging the cord out of the audio output, I placed the old music player back in my pack when you eventually came back with our stuff.

Your brown eyes trailed to my right forearm, the blood stained and drying up. From the backpack, you grabbed a canteen and some alcohol-doused rags and bandages. I satiated my thirst while you dressed the wound. All while in the department store.

...

It was silent, during the dressing-the-wound moment. Your eyes were down on my arm, mine were also in the same spot, until I had decided to bring them up to look at you.

I wish I hadn't.

...

Surprisingly, a tear appeared on your left eye.  
One single droplet. Out of place. Not welcomed. Undesired.

...

You'd never looked so forlorn before.

And while you were bandaging my arm, Riley, I brought out a feeble hand, my thumb sweeping across to where your tear was, abolishing it. You looked back up to meet my green eyes, the remnants of a smile were emitting themselves on your grieving face.

And then, you embraced me with a softness that could not be compared with anything else.

...

"I'm sorry." you whispered. "God, I'm so sorry."

* * *

**6:45 PM**

It'd been a while since the infection. I had approximately thirty-six hours to go.

We watched the sight of Boston's Military Preparatory School from afar, our legs dangling in the air as we sat on the rooftop of an abandoned building, our hands still entwined.

We watched the sunset in silence.

The sadness I felt... it was... strange, I honestly never thought I'd feel this way.

We would never see Corporal Dickhead, or Fraser, or Theodore, or Tino and the rest. We would never say our farewells. Regardless of how much I hated 90% of the school and their assholes, there are some things that needed a proper closure, and we couldn't do that.

We couldn't go back. It was sure as hell too late for me, and it was the same for you.  
Riley, even if you tried, you couldn't go back in without being heavily interrogated and snooped and cornered and gunned down.

"You think they'll miss us?" you asked, eyes on the school.

I gave out an indefinite shrug, "I can imagine."  
A flock of crows zoomed past us, an angled V as they flew to wherever the wind would take them. The flock would later transform into a tiny speck, decreasing in size as it went for the dusky horizon.

I sighed deeply.  
"I wish we could be like them."

"What? Birds?" you scoffed softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I knew you always wanted to be a pelican."

"No, not literally, you doofus." I chuckled back. "I... I wish we could just... _fly_ away from our problems. From everything. Don't you ever feel like that?"

...

...

"Yeah..." you muttered, your thumb subconsciously stroking my hand in small circles. "That would be nice."

The sun was sinking into the landscape, the school's lights were starting to power up, the kids were heading back to their dorms, ready to call it a day.

And me?

...

I was dying.

* * *

**9:23 PM**

"Ever wonder how cool it would've been to land on the moon?"

We found a small plain, Riley, you and I. It wasn't really a plain, but more like a fenced backyard that had soft grass to lie on. You told me we could go stargazing, and you had brought me here.

And instead of tracing constellations, you and I were looking at the sky's pearl.

I shrugged, my back lying on the grass. "Yeah. I mean, being an astronaut sounds kinda awesome. Y'know, to just like, be out there in space without all the infected and crap."

"How sure are you that there aren't any infected in space?"  
I chortled, "Oh man, _space-infected?_ Sounds terrifying."

"Terrifyingly cool." you added, and we both chuckled indefinitely.

Naturally, the giggles resided into sighs, and those sighs turned to silence.  
Deafening silence.

...

"How much time do you think I have left?"

Your hand swept across the grass to hold mine, "Ellie..."  
"I'm serious," I said, "do I totally look like shit?"

You propped yourself up with your elbows, grabbing the flashlight from your backpack and clicking it on. With eyes squinting, you took a good five seconds to scrutinize me as the artificial light showered quite annoyingly on my face.

"Hm,"

I looked rather tense. "What?"  
"Should I tell the good news, or the bad one first?"

An uneasy pause.

"Bad."

"Alright," you said. "Well... those bags on your eyes are _really_ gonna weigh on you when you're—"

I slapped your arm.

"I know," you laughed, "devastating, ain't it?"  
"That's not what I meant."  
"Wait, wait, you haven't heard the good news yet."

You placed the flashlight back to where it originally was, and turned back to face me. Your eyes were deadpan, and I waited anxiously for an answer.

Then, you tucked a hair strand behind my ear; slowly, carefully, lovingly. It made my body flip from the inside out.

...

"You're still here."

* * *

**11:45 PM**

Approximately thirty-one hours before my turning.

I remember it. Winston's camp was sitting solemnly in the middle of the abandoned mall, and we were there, our hands together, and you practically dragged me inside so we could sleep in it for the night.

I was going to object about how terrible of an idea it was, but there wasn't really any better place to stay in, was there?  
When we got in the tent, you sat me down on Winston's bed, a look of lament plastered on my face.

I'd like to apologize on behalf of my post-bite depression. I mean, everything seemed irrelevant to me knowing that I basically had a day left in my fourteen-year life. And I'm sorry, Riley, that you had to see me like that.

You were before Winston's desk, my Walkman in your hands. I would yell at you to give it back, but then I realized how it wasn't much an importance anymore, knowing that I probably wouldn't have direct ownership to it by thirty-one hours.

'Cause I would most probably be dead.

...

And then without knowing, you stood before me, your shadow hovering over mine. I looked up, and I saw your brown eyes, twinkling and soft, you were offering for me to stand.

And so I did.

As I stood up, you clumsily grabbed the earphones from my Walkman and put one in your ear, the other you placed in mine.

With a slightly raised brow, I gazed at you, wondering what the hell you were planning to do. Your eyes told me to be patient, and I waited with curiosity.

Then, you pressed the play button.

One of the songs from that tape you gave me, Riley. Like you had intentionally hoped for that one song to play, and the relief that waved over you when you heard it was already a giveaway.

There was a pause of static, and then the strumming of a guitar welcomed itself on my one ear, the blues' drums following up shortly.

My cheeks were now burning a bright red._  
_

"This is my personal pick, honestly..." you muttered. Looking at you, I saw through on what you were trying to do. For me. For _us._

_Fuck_,_ Riley. We're going to dance?_

Carefully —so carefully yet ineptly— you took my arms and wrapped them around your neck, while placing yours on my waist. It was killing me, how mute I was, sandwiched between you and the song, my mouth seemed stuffed when I tried to speak.

Synchronized, we started to dance with the introduction. The cold, bluesy tune that seemed to fill the tent when it had only just filled our one ear. Both our faces were beet red, mine was already at melting point.

The drums hit off, and the lyrics had already burned themselves in my head before the singer had even begun.

_Pass me that lovely little gun_  
_My dear, my darling one_  
_The cleaners are coming, one by one_  
_You don't even want to let them start_

Good ol' rock and blues, Riley. Without caring, we swayed against the rhythm, rebellious and clumsily. We sometimes stumbled on our own feet, and you would apologize and I'd laugh uncouthly, our eyes were focused on each other, while our grins and smiles were as wide as the oceans.

God, Riley, why were you such an idiot?

_They're knocking now upon your door,  
__They measure the room, they know the score  
__They're mopping up the butcher's floor  
__Of your broken little hearts_

_O, children_

It came to your attention that during our ungraceful mess-ups, my hair had gotten in my face. And painstakingly, you tucked the hair strand behind my ear, a crooked, faint smile present on your lips.

Damn it, Riley, this was the second time you'd done that.  
I bit my own lip in sheer coyness. "Thanks, mom."

_Forgive us now for what we've done  
__It started out as a bit of fun  
__Here, take these before we run away  
__The keys to the gulag_

_O, children  
_

You twirled me around as we danced, Riley. I guess it didn't really occur to you that we were wearing earphones since you accidentally entangled the wire. Our laughter filled in the instrumental sessions, and your hands were clumsily fixing it up again, our cheeks exchanging the vicious heat that were stored inside.

_Lift up your voice,_  
_Lift up your voice_

The beat hit off again, more intense, more dramatic. The singer's bluesy voice dribbled across our eardrums, his tone sending waves of feelings and movement. From then on, everything surrounding us were irrelevant. It was just you and me, Riley.

You and me and the song that reminded us of rainy nights.

_We have the answer to all your fears_  
_It's short, it's simple, it's crystal clear_  
_It's round about, it's somewhere here_  
_Lost amongst our winnings_

The twirling became swaying, and the swaying turned to twirling, like a ball waltz.

_Hey, little train, wait for me!_  
_I once was blind but now I see_  
_Have you left a seat for me?_  
_Is that such a stretch of the imagination?_

To hell with being graceful, to hell with being shy, because we danced under the dark sky like nobody was watching. For once, in spite of it all, I forgot about everything that'd been doomed on me, and I only remembered you, Riley.

_Hey, little train, wait for me!_  
_I was held in chains but now I'm free_  
_I'm hanging in there, don't you see_  
_In this process of elimination_

The music started to slow down, and so did our movement. Before we knew it, our foreheads were pressed together, smiling, our eyes gazing, our bodies still moving left to right rhythmically. We were like a slow-moving pendulum.

...

Your eyes went down to my lips, and I knew what you were thinking.  
_Go ahead,_ I wanted to say. _Kiss me._

_..._

It seemed that you could read minds, Riley, because you most certainly did.

We kissed, and it'd been the second time we had done it. With dancing and music and heartfelt emotions. You ran your fingers through my hair, and I wrapped my arms around your neck even tighter. I could feel your smile, and you could feel mine. Everything felt so ethereal.

_The train that goes to the kingdom_  
_We're happy, Ma, we're having fun_  
_It's beyond my wildest expectation_

We were having fun, Riley, during the late hours in an infested mall. With my arm acting as my time-bomb, ticking as each smile, each sway, and each second would go by.

And dancing with you in the tent —surrounded by alcohol bottles and cigarette butts— was definitely beyond my wildest expectations.

...

We eventually broke apart, because yes, Riley, there's always an end to everything, as sad as it is.

When we continued to sway, after the kiss, your deep, brown eyes greeted me; and they were eyes that I wouldn't see, hands that I wouldn't hold, lips that I wouldn't kiss. You were like a toy that I couldn't and wouldn't have, because there wouldn't be enough time left for me in this god-forsaken world.

Goddammit.

With my chin resting on your shoulder, your arms still wrapped around my waist as we hugged and swayed left to right, I wanted to tell you to come with me, to turn with me.

Because I didn't want to face death alone. Not like this.

...

"It would've been more dramatic if we were both doomed." I said, it sounded too plain and humorous to be sad.  
You hummed, "Maybe. And maybe I already am."

Our feet'd lightly stepped on each other, but we were too sleepy to have noticed, the singer's gruff vocals had started to fade into oblivion, and another instrumental arrived.

"If you think about it, Ellie, maybe your kisses _are_ infectious, and I'm already Infected." you joked—I _assumed_ you were joking—your voice embedded with drowsiness.

"That way . . . we can be all poetic and just . . . lose our minds together."

...

I smiled, kissing your cheek because it felt natural and I couldn't not want more.

"Yeah," I said tiredly, eyes closing as we continued to sway. "I'd like that."

It had a ring to it, didn't it, Riley?

_To just lose our minds together._

I liked that. I liked that a lot.

...

Maybe it was because of our lethargic nature, but when the minutes had gone by and we both crashed together on the bed, snoring like animals, the snares of the drum still beating in our earphone-d ears until they would eventually settle back to static, maybe... just maybe, you and I were both Infected. And maybe I didn't have to face my demise alone.

Through that thought, death didn't seem so inevitable anymore.

...

In the tent that belonged to a deceased soldier, Riley, you and I had danced to kingdom come.

* * *

**Holy bajeezus I love this chapter**

**The last dance scene was heavily inspired by a part in HP: Deathly Hallows where Harry goaded Hermione to dance. The song in this chapter is from _Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds,_ titled "O Children", the same title as this chapter. Go listen to it, it's really awesome.**

**Please, leave a review! It's not that hard and usually takes about 3 mouse clicks! Thanks for reading! See you soon!**


	5. Extended Hours

**Author's Note:  
Thank you for all the support, you people sure know how to make someone's day!  
I've been busy these past weeks, but thanks to you I am still motivated to write. Cheers!**

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**Chapter Five: Extended Hours**

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**8:33 AM**

I awoke with a pair of sore legs and stringy arms, my head resting solemnly on your chest.

If there's a word that could properly describe what I had been feeling on that particular moment, then being _hungover_ would suffice. I know, it's not like I boozed or anything, but all my muscles had been stretched and tired from running vigorously from yesterday.

Though I didn't really care that much about my soreness, did I? Please, let's not forget about what happened just some hours ago.

The bite.  
Yes of course, the bite.

As I raised my right arm and slightly moved my head, it seemed that it was enough to stir you, Riley. Your chest heaved some air in before you eventually propped yourself up with your elbows. The earphone was still in your ear, and despite looking sleepy, you were sure as hell alert.

"You're still okay," you said.  
"I'm still okay." I affirmed back.

After two seconds of staring at each other in bewilderment and dumbstruck-ness, we both gave out a synchronized squeal of happiness and embraced.

Dear God... was that hope that I sensed?

"Do you feel anything?" you asked after the hug.  
"Well, I'm sort of, ah, mildly...kind of...really...hungry."

"Is that... uh, a symptom?"  
"Maybe."

I sat cross-legged on the mattress beside you, examining my bandaged arm.

I wanted to tell you about last night, Riley. I wanted to thank you for making me feel like those troubled teens in those cheesy, romance fiction novels that we stole from Jessica Kugler last winter. And while we had read the first chapter and had immediately thrown the saccharine book away, I would never forget its contents.

As I sat there just adjacent from you, I couldn't seem to unwrap the bandage and peep at my bite.

"D'you think that it's totally sprouting fungal crap by now?"

Oh, Riley, you just _had_ to make me paranoid.

"That's really alleviating to hear." I replied back, sarcastically, of course.  
"Sorry, would it make you feel better if I checked it?"

"It would make me feel better if I hadn't been bitten."

...

"I...I don't know how I should reply to that."  
"You don't," I said impatiently, "just, check the bite. Please."

And while I dramatically looked away to gaze at the tent's walls when you were unwrapping the bandage, apprehension was starting to rumble in my stomach.

I felt the tight rags fall off from my arm, and I scrounged up my nose in anxiety, waiting for your reaction.

...

...

"Huh."

_Huh?  
_That was it?

"What do you mean, 'huh'?" I said, a hand covering my eyes. But you didn't answer. You drew my arm for a closer examination, and I grew restless.

"Riley."  
"I think that you should look at it, El."

And reluctantly, I did.

...

_Holy shit._

Right before me was my scabbed arm. The bite mark had been scarred, and only few fungal elements had erupted from my skin, creating a bumpy texture.

"Is that... normal?" I asked.

"I'm not a doctor, but..." you muttered, "...the effects should've started hours ago. Bites don't scar up, they continue to redden."  
"Maybe it's different for each people?"  
"Y'know, Ellie, I'm beginning to think that you _want_ to turn."

I sighed, "I'm just being realistic here."

"Well, if it is, it sure is taking a hell lot longer for you to get the symptoms—which is a good thing. We still got an ass-load of time." you smiled. "You're still hungry, right?"

"Of course I am, I can't un-hunger myself, blockhead."

Getting off the bed, you grabbed the backpack from Winston's desk and brought out some well-deserved animal crackers.

My eyes twinkled.  
"Dibs on the dinosaur."

* * *

**-MARLENE-  
9:22 AM**

She paced the room left to right, not knowing when or how to stop. Her hands were so terribly shaken that even if she tried clenching her fists, they would still rumble and twitch, like a stubborn car engine.

She knew it was bound to occur, she knew it, goddammit. She should've kept an eye on her the whole time.

"Damn it, Abel." she muttered, her shaking hand on the desk. It was bad enough that Riley had snuck out of the Firefly base, the only possible base that could still be regarded as safe and military-free. But the possibility of the girl running off to meet Ellie—the one whom she told Riley so _specifically _not to meet—was incredulously high.

Trying to send her off to another base outside of Boston would have been the best thing. She knew Ellie and Riley's troublesome demeanor, what more if the military caught them during one of those trouble-making scenes and found out that one of them was conveniently a Firefly?

Marlene planted a firm fist onto the base of the desk in frustration.

This was _not_ supposed to happen.

A knock on her door interrupted her panic, she attempted to calm herself, before giving access to the knocker to enter the room.

"So?" she queried to her comrade. "Is she there?"

The Firefly's lips thinned, "The girl's missin'. She ain't in the boardin' school, she hasn't attended the military drills since yesterday. The spies say that the Corporal'd issued a search party for her."

Riley disappeared. Ellie had gone missing from her school. Two pieces that seemed to fit together perfectly, and Marlene knew that it wasn't a coincidence.  
The desk had received another hiding by her iron fist. The Firefly flinched slightly.

Being tense and aggressive was unusual for her, but the stress had pressured the woman, and it would be understandable to why she was acting as so. Marlene breathed out through her nose in haggard wafts before facing back to the Firefly.

She knew what she had to do.

"Geoff," Marlene's grip on the desk tightened, "you come with me."

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
10:02 AM  
**

With a newly-bandaged arm and a belly full of digested animal-shaped crackers, you and I had exited out of the mall with our backpacks glued to our spines, the summer breeze acknowledging itself as we went back to the rooftops.

The sky was filled with clouds. Long and flat puffs of white that striped the wide blue sheet as far as the human eye could see, the sun was hidden behind them.  
A perfect day to spend one's final moments.

"Where to, cap'n?" I queried, using my hands as binoculars.

You were ahead of me, with your dark hair contrasting greatly to the brightness around you. When you turned back to look at me, your face had been plastered with a silly smirk. "You can take a guess."

Aha, guessing games. My favorite.  
I clapped my hands together. "Alrighty, then."

_Let's do this._

"Is it the beach resort in LA?"  
"That's kind of over-the-top, don't you think?"

"Right. Space, perhaps?"

"Ah, no."  
"The Space Needle?"

"No, what's up with you and space these days?"  
"Zoo?"

"Nah, I already got a monkey beside me."  
I punched your arm. "Rude."

The guesses went and went, each of them being equally rejected and shunned. I groaned indignantly, not wanting to waste my time any further. "Just tell me, would you?"

"It starts with a C—"  
"Circus?"

"...Close."

"Canada?"  
"Of course no—" You paused, before looking at me with squinted eyes. "Why're you even going _that _far?"

I guess you grew tired as well, because you went ahead and became the spoilsport after my bazillion highly relevant guesses.  
"It's the carnival, Ellie. God, how hard was that?"

"Really? I could've sworn it was China."

You grabbed my hand, leading us down to the next rooftop. "Come on, I can hear it calling for us."  
"Carnivals don't talk."  
"Shut up."

"Okay."

In all seriousness, Riley, I was glad to be alive. I was glad when realizing that I still had some more hours left in me. To know that I wasn't having that feverish symptom yet or that I didn't have a mushroom growing out of my face. Just walking with you under the cloudy sky with both our hands entwined was all I needed to be content with my short life.

You were successful in making me happy, Riley, and I was glad to still be with you.

* * *

**See you all in Chapter Six whoop**


	6. Foolish Adventures

**Author's Note:  
Changing Ellie's writing style for this chapter and most probably the future chapters, just so you know c:**

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**Chapter Six: Foolish Adventures**

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We walked in the middle of the cracked road, overcoming cars, fallen trees and small ponds.  
"You still don't know how to swim?" Riley inquired, jumping on a tiny puddle.

The splash she did soaked the lower part of my pants.  
"Hey, asshole! These are my good pair." I groaned as I tried to dry it off.

"You didn't answer my question, Ellie."

I blew the hair on my face. "No, I haven't learned yet. It's not like there's a pool around."  
"Well, way before you came to that school, one of Winston's buddies taught me how." she replied with a tiny hint of arrogance.

"That's great. You want a fucking dog treat or something?"

"Sorry, but who's the bitch here?" Riley smirked.  
I turned to her and flipped her off, we both cackled at our silliness and continued on walking. The weather was surprisingly cool today, the mute silence was almost deafening to me, and I couldn't help but think that I should speak up.

And so I did, I reached for my backpack and hummed.

"Okay, let's lighten things up, shall we?" I took out the pun book from my backpack.  
"Here we go..." Riley sighed.

"Please, Riley, contain your excitement." I grinned, winking at her.

Flipping through the unbelievably limited amount of pages, I started to read the first line of whatever my eyes had landed upon.  
"Did you hear about the guy who's left hand was cut off?"

Riley scratched her head, "I don't know, what?"

"They said it's okay because he's _all right_!"  
"Psssh." she retorted.

I flipped to another page "Fine, I thought it was funny."  
"Just get on with it, Ellie."

"Let's see." I scrolled through the jokes,

"The bunny I bought doesn't seem to like me."  
"...It's like it doesn't _carrot all!_" I couldn't help but giggle, I finally managed to make Riley laugh as well.

"Aw, that's adorable."  
"Yeah, I guess."  
"Okay, give me a new one."

I started reading a pun right below the last one.

"There was a sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center."  
"It said 'Keep off the Grass'."

…

…

"I don't get it" she said confusingly.  
"Me neither."

"Keep off the Grass... what does that mean?"  
I shrugged, "Beats me."

"Maybe it's-"  
"Oh, we're here!" Riley claimed excitedly as she sprinted ahead, I quickly closed the booklet and caught up to her, we stood before a large red tent. Its size was pretty intimidating.

"Tickets, please?" Riley joked as she brought out her hand, I scoffed and picked up a dry leaf; I promptly placed it on her outstretched palm.  
She smiled and gestured her way to the entrance, "Thank you. Right this way, ma'm."

We both entered and in almost every direction there were abandoned stalls. Most were now covered with foliage and plants, the mechanical rides have definitely seen better days.

But the first thing that caught my attention was a small novelty stall that had all kinds of apparel. Fake mustaches, Eyeball-popping glasses, masks, wigs, and hats. I spotted a tall, purple polka-dotted hat and wore it on my head.

I looked around, no one was in vicinity and Riley was messing with another stand.

I cleared my voice and looked at the cracked mirror,  
"Would you care for tea, Alice?" I played out a scene from a book that I read.

"Why, yes! I'm very fond of tea." I answered back to myself in a high-pitched voice.

It went on like that for an embarrassingly long time, and unfortunately for me, Riley had caught me. I found her in my peripheral as I noticed a figure leaning on a pole in the mirror's reflection.

"Hrrrnnnk." she choked, trying hard not to laugh.  
"Piss off."

Riley walked up to me and smiled. "You look cute, though." She nuzzled her nose on the side of my cheek affectionately, the action made my knees surprisingly weak.

"R-Riley..!"

And with cheeks as red as blood, I pushed her away.  
All she could do was laugh, clearly amused at my reaction.

"You're awful." I muttered.

After struggling through the cruel harassment, I took off the hat and placed it back on the hanger, grabbing Riley's arm as we exited the novelty shop.

"C'mon, let's see what we can find."

We stumbled upon an old High Striker, a small bell rested on the top. Riley boldly stepped forward and grabbed the mallet resting beside it.

"Oh please, you gonna try and hit the top?" I mocked, crossing my arms.  
"Let's see who's stronger, then."

Riley closed her eyes and raised the mallet high in the air, then, in a quick force, it swiftly went down and slammed on the button it was fixed on.

**WHACK!**

It almost hit the bell. Shit.  
_  
How am I supposed to top that?_

"Can you beat that, _Mad Hatter?_" she teased. Riley received a slight spank on the shoulder as a reward, and I took the mallet from her with rivalry.

"Stsh, I got this."

I took a breath, leveling my morale with hers.  
_I mean, how hard could it be?_

_It won't be that difficult, right? Just a little force on the hammer, and then bring it down, gotcha. This would be totally be easy._

_I totally got this._

And as soon as my weight shifted to the hammer's, it certainly felt like I did _not_ have the upper advantage.

But fuck it, I mustered every bit of energy I could, like I was storing it all in some kind of box until it could no longer hold. With a swift force, I brought the hammer down heavily with an insanely loud yell.

**SLAM!**

The lever flew way up high, and shockingly, it rung the bell.

It cried out my victory in a muffled tone, the rust softening its loudness. I dropped the mallet to the floor as I gazed up at the old bell. Both Riley and I were absolutely dumbfounded, our mouths were widely open like a tunnel entrance.

...

...

_"...Ohhhhh!"_ I finally managed to cheer out, pumping my fists in the air.

"Okay, Ellie. Okay." she rolled her eyes, admitting defeat.  
"Who just whooped your ass?" I asked playfully.  
"Let's move to another game-"

"I said,_ who_ just whooped your ass?"

Riley looked down coyly.

"You did..."  
"Good girl," I grinned with overzealous confidence, "you're my bitch, now."

"_Excuse_ me?" Riley's submissive demeanor had officially left the building.  
"That's right," I said again, the next words were pronounced slowly. "You're my little _bitch._"

"Alright. Don't get all cocky from a strongman's game, El." she nodded ferociously. "'Cause we'll see who's the bitch once I'm done with you."

And at that moment, Riley Abel had transformed into a cat, pouncing at me and clawing at my face with brutality.  
I grunted and squirmed in her hold, we were on the floor now, the two of us exchanging delightful profanities at each other whilst kicking and soft-punching. The scuffle had me exhausted, and Riley looked down upon me triumphantly, straddling me with inhuman force.

"Boom. _My bitch_." she exclaimed.  
"Whatever, I just intended for you to win so you wouldn't feel bad about yourself."

"Did you, now?" she chuckled, leaning forward and brushing my nose with her finger. Riley gave out another laugh, and eventually we started to remain in that position for a long time.

Our eyes beamed again, and the gaze took me back to yesterday. It felt like years ever since what happened, but it had only been a few hours. I found it unbelievable, knowing that I was still breathing. The thought of being bit slowly faded away since I was too preoccupied being with Riley.

When was I going to turn?

_.._

"We should check out the other stalls." she suggested awkwardly, getting off of my bruised body and helping me on my feet.

We played around a bit more, one stand had made us take down a bunch of these cans with our water guns, the other was to pin this tail on a cutout of a donkey while being blindfolded.

As our antics continued, we returned to the old novelty shop and I wore one of those fake mustaches while Riley had placed an wigged afro on her head.

"You look like a dork." I laughed, viewing her as she placed the wig on.  
"Hey, you're the one with the mustache."

"I'm just more macho than you." I said, flexing my wonderfully developed biceps.  
"Well, I'm sure you get _all_ the ladies, then."

"Damn right I do."

I glanced over the window, my eyes widening as I noticed that we never payed attention the the _ferris wheel_ way at the back.

"Oh my God." I gasped. "Riley,"

She was trying on different kinds of wigs, yet she leaned towards me in a concerning way.

"What, what?" she jabbered. "Is it the symptoms?"  
"What? No." I pointed at the ride, "You do know that there's a fucking ferris wheel over there, right?"

She widened her eyes and dropped the wig, Riley took my hand gently and guided us to it without uttering another word.

Of course, I was unprepared.  
"H-hey, wait—" I said, taking off the mustache with one hand.

We got to the ferris wheel and examined the lower part, it was pretty small_. _There was a machine in front of it that seemed to operate the ride, it looked busted.

Drat.

"Ah, poop. Well I guess we can't ride it." I hit the operating machine with my foot, and Riley Abel had unncecessarily puckered her lips, looking at the top with squinted eyes.

"What're you doing?" I queried.

She then turned to face me, and smiled with the mischief she was infamous for.  
"I'm climbing to the top, you wanna join me?"

I stared at her in disbelief.  
"Join you—?!" I sputtered. "Are you fucking crazy?"

Riley placed her hands in her pockets, "Kind of."

Before she could cling to one of the passenger lifts, I stopped her.  
"I'm not letting you do this." I said sternly.

"Ellie, I got this, don't worr—"

"You're going to hurt yourself." I cut her off. I didn't mean to sound strict, but if my bite wasn't going to kill me, then my anxiety would.

Our eyes were fixed on each other, mine were sharp and rigid while hers were trying to persuade me to let her go.

Riley took a deep breath.  
"Relax, this thing is like, 10 meters tall. It's just a walk in the park, El."

I was still not convinced, "And what makes you think I'll let you go that easily?"  
She rubbed her chin. "Well, how 'bout this."

"If I'm right, and that nothing bad is gonna happen, then we play a game of truth or dare."

I looked at her skeptically, "And if _I'm_ right?"  
"Then you catch me as I fall and we do whatever you wanna do."

I thought about it, the ferris wheel _was_ pretty tiny. The worst thing that could happen to her was that she would break a leg.

_Hah! Break a leg. How ironic. _

I reluctantly agreed to our proposition.  
"Fine, but I'm not taking care of you if you manage to hurt yourself."

Riley chortled and started to grab onto the first lift. "Relax, kid. Like I said, I got this."

The barbaric girl planted her foot on the first capsule, and I swallowed the fear in my lump, forcing it back down to my stomach.

She moved to the left and clung onto the second capsule, then the third. Riley was like a spider making her own web.

All of a sudden, her shoe slipped and Riley Abel was dangling mid-air.  
"Fuck,"

"Riley!" I squealed, preparing to climb on the first capsule to get her.

"No, no, Ellie, it's cool!" she yelled back down, "It's cool. Totally cool."  
She re-positioned her foot back in place, lifting her body up from the air.

"See? I'm fine."

Riley managed to successfully clamber onto the roof the of the fourth capsule, I held my breath as she carefully moved to the fifth one.

"Aaaand... touchdown!" she exclaimed, hopping over to the top. I goggled at her as she clung to the wires like a monkey from a vine.

"Wow, you look pretty small." she added, looking down at me.  
"Yeah, well fun's over, get down from there before you scare the shit out of me." I yelled, still nervous that she could fall.

Riley skillfully did as told and descended to a lower lift. She landed right next to me, dust filling my eyes from her landing.

"Alright, I won the deal, so we do the game."  
I sighed, "Sure, you're the boss."

We walked to a small yellow circus tent and sat together as the light seeped through the entrance.

Looking back, I have absolutely no clue on why I had decided to let her climb that damn thing. Let alone agreeing to her proposition.  
But hey—a deal's a deal, right?

As we sat down cross-legged and across each other, Riley took her hands out. "Okay,"

"Truth or dare?" she asked.  
"Dare."

For a split-second, her eyes turned from innocent to diabolical.  
She pointed toward the tent's pole. "I dare you to lick it."

"Tsh, easy."  
"Buuut," she said, "you gotta do it nice and slow."

...

"Do you have like, a fetish for poles or something?"  
"No. Are you gonna do the dare?" she queried. "Or are you gonna _chicken_ out?"

"I'd rather keep my dignity, thank you very much."

"Spoilsport."

The dares and truths very mostly childish, and by childish I mean the _incredibly-immature-and-offensive _kind of childish.  
I'll take this opportunity to skim through the rest of the truth or dares and hurry to that one question she'd asked me.

"How were you doing... after I... uh, left? After the fight, I mean."  
Her straight-to-the-point questions always surprised me.

I was quiet for a while, thinking of what words to say and what not to say.  
"Well, I thought we would make up the day after, you know. But... when I figured that you weren't there, I told myself that you would come back tomorrow and everything would be back to normal."

But it didn't.

I paused momentarily, "I had a lot of mixed emotions at that time, Riley. I felt mad, confused, and alone."

Her ears seemed to perk up, listening tentatively.

"Tino and the others said you that you probably got mauled off by some Infected. Eventually I believed them after a week passed by, then two, then three. No one really talked about it, but we knew what had happened. Or, we _thought_ we knew."

Believe it or not, I kept hoping for her to return every day. Even though the chances were slim, I still hoped. But after each day without her, a feeling of cold remorse swelled up inside me, feelings of guilt, anger, and frustration. I had seldom talked to the other kids around me, I'd grown more distant and my fights between the groups at school'd decreased.

They knew that out of all the people that Riley met,  
I was the one that had been struck the most.

It had been like that for a period of forty-six days. And then out of the blue, Riley pops up and acts like nothing had ever happened. She was oblivious to the tremendous amount of time that I struggled with her disappearance. And although I was relieved to see her, it was what pissed me off the most.

"I'm sorry, Ellie." Riley spoke up, feeling guilty.  
"What for?"  
"I fucked things up for you."

I picked at my bandage constantly, "You don't have to be. It doesn't matter now."  
She huddled up to the side of the tent, "But I need to make it up to you. I need to make up for every shitty thing I've done so far."

"Riley..." I took her by the hand.  
"You already did."

She looked at me in a puzzled way.  
"What?"

I tightened my grip on her hand, "Everything that we have done these past two days is more than enough for me to forgive you. To be honest, I didn't really need to in the first place, the only thing I want right now is to be with you, and I couldn't be happier with anyone else."

..

..

Riley scoffed and rubbed her arm sheepishly.  
"So am I." she mumbled

Without hesitation, I closed the gap from our faces, fluttering my eyes to rest as I felt the warmth of her lips once again. The kiss was sudden, and the length was the same as the first.

No idea why I did that though, it just felt right.

_Everything felt right._

We pulled away shortly and the same blushing effect occurred to me like before. Riley was stunned once again, a feeling of nostalgia rushed to me. I instantly recalled the moments after our first kiss.

* * *

"_Sorry" I whispered._

_But Riley just stood there, still smiling.  
_"_For what?"_

* * *

"You know what?" I said, throwing my arm over her neck in a childish way.

Riley turned to me, her cheeks were bright red.  
"What?"

"I'm _so_ not sorry for this one." I beamed, and we both chuckled as we reminisced the events of yesterday.  
"We're such saps." Riley sighed as I rested my head on her shoulder.  
"Corny and cheesy saps?" I added as I toyed with my hair.

"Mm-hmm."

We stayed in that position for a while and played dozens of rounds of Truth or Dare. An hour passed and it was late in the afternoon, the warm sun drizzled on our skins.

I bit my lip and nudged Riley's shoulder. "Okay, last one. Truth or Da-"  
"Wait." Riley placed a finger on my mouth, I shoved it off gently.  
"What are you-" Suddenly I heard footsteps surrounding us.

_Plod  
__Plod  
__Plod_

The stomps of heavy boots were circling the area, my stomach churned and immediately I got on my feet.

_Oh shit._

…

…

…

Soldiers.

* * *

**cliffhangers suck**


	7. Ambush

**Author's Note:**

**Ah, sorry this one took a while. But here it is :D**  
**I HIGHLY recommend you to try out this soundtrack while reading for a more in-depth feel of the story.**

**_The Last of Us Left Behind OST - Evasion_**

**Pretty much it for this A/N. Continue on reading!**

* * *

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**Chapter Seven: Ambush**

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We were alert. The plodding continued, there were about three soldiers in the perimeter, probably that time for them to start scouting. God, why did we have to choose this place?

I sighed.

Riley really was an idiot.

We were sitting ducks, I was still uncertain whether the soldiers were outside the carnival, or inside. Worryingly, I turned to Riley in hopes for advice.

"What's the plan?" I asked in a low voice.

She kept her tone calm and soft so that no one but I could hear her.

"I'm gonna take a quick peek and see if these guys are outside the wall. If they are then we'll find a way to get out of this place before these fuckers can catch us."

"And what if they're inside?"  
"Then you just gotta trust me in this."

She held her finger to her mouth, signalling a _'Hey Ellie, I think it's time for us to shut the fuck up now'_ kind of action. Riley popped her head outside and checked all directions, some time later, she yielded back with her thumb in the air.  
"Coast is clear, we should move." she whispered. I nodded and followed her lead, creeping out of the tent and quickly hugging the inside wall of the carnival. I could hear a soldier yawn from the outside, it felt unnerving to me that the only thing separating us was a layer of measly cement.

We reached the exit, Riley beckoned me and I searched for any soldiers outside the venue. Unsurprisingly, there were two of them guarding the entrance. Both their backs were facing us.

We surveyed around, and I managed to find half a piece of cemented brick that had been chipped off of the wall. Picking it up, I faced Riley and handed it over. We both had the same idea stirring in our heads.

_Distract those fuckers._

She nodded with a smirk, and carefully, she threw the brick ahead of the two soldiers. The sound alerted them, and sure enough, they slowly approached to where the area was.

_All according to plan._

We sneaked out of the carnival, step by step, little by little, we inched away slowly and cautiously. Paranoid as I was, the sweat flowing out of me was immense. It had taken us several minutes, but we were just a few meters before an alleyway that we could hide in. Although as soon as I thought that we had gotten away with it, we were given the exact opposite.

"_Hold it!_"

His deep and gravelly voice seemed to be gargled in lead. The sharpness in his tone made me flinch, and we both turned our heads back unwillingly to check whoever it was. Well, we had automatically assumed that it was a soldier, and we were not disappointed.

There stood our man of the hour, fully armored and packed like a canned good. He sported an assault rifle and aimed the majestic machine directly at us.

Fan-_fucking_-tastic.

"Shit." I hissed, stopping in my tracks. We didn't dare to move an inch.  
The soldier grabbed a radio transmitter from the side of his shoulder and uttered something to the other end, static emitted shortly after and he released it. Turning back to us, he aimed his gun cautiously.

"Put your hands where I can see them." the soldier commanded, he was coming closer to us now. The blood boiled and rumbled in my throat, each step he took sent a whirlwind to my stomach. Riley was very still in my peripheral, but she seemed calm. Why? Why on earth would she be calm at a time like this?

But when he took another step, she grabbed something from her backpack and threw it on the ground. I heard the clinking and clatter of a cylindrical metal object as it rolled around the pavement, arriving before the soldier's feet like a welcome mat.

It was a smoke grenade.

"Run, Ellie!" she yelled as the bomb spewed out the gas, the soldier was engulfed in the smoke, unable to see. There was an abundance of yelling and hacking and more yelling, but Riley grabbed my hand roughly as she dragged us away from the scene. My head was spinning, and I almost tripped on my own feet.  
We dashed to the alleyway, gunshots followed us like a pack of dogs. As we narrowly escaped the crossfire, I decided to stop for a moment and take a breath. Because apparently, my lungs refused to take in the air it needed.

My lungs collapsed.

"Jesus Christ, Riley!"

"What?"

"That was pretty fucking stupid."

She chuckled.

"Hey, 'least we're alive."

What a maniac, this fucking clown.

After we had collected ourselves and blamed each other for our own carelessness, Riley proposed to keep moving. I eagerly agreed, staying out in the streets of Boston without proper gear gave me immeasurable amounts of insanity and stomachaches. And just to be clear, I favored the former more than the latter.

We walked from the alleyway and to a narrow area. The wind picked up again, and my shoulders prickled as the swift cold played with my bare skin. Despite being summer, the weather was unpredictable, and I regretted to have worn such clothing.

The previous events seemed to have left my memory, and I almost forgot that it'd happened.  
Again, I almost did, if it weren't for the voice that entered my ears.

"They're over there!" the gravelly voice yelled again, and mind you, the guy didn't sound exuberant at our attempt to escape.

We looked back again, only to be greeted by guns and scopes which reflections' had blinded my sight momentarily. I felt like a deer, frozen in the road, unable to move away from the car accelerating towards it, refusing to stop. Before we even managed to move, a shot rang out, the sound deafening my already tortured ears.

I closed my eyes with teeth clenched, bracing for the pain to show its entrance in my body.  
But the pain did not come.  
What did, though, were the yells of distress coming from the girl beside me.

Riley.

Oh, _fuck._

Stunned and still processing what had happened, I stared at her as she gritted her teeth in anguish.  
Have you ever felt like that particular deer? Frozen on the road? I bet you have, and this moment was one of the several thousands that made me feel like one. The realization of Riley getting shot had not passed through me, my brain was a vegetable, frozen, like the deer.

My eyes tried to locate the gunshot wound, and her upper arm had advertised a bright red spot, her side had been punctured by the bullet. A piece of cloth from her jacket was missing, and in replacement was a fleshy laceration type of wound. The bullet was wedged somewhere inside of her arm, it was bleeding. _Riley was shot._ She, and also I, would die if we continued to stand motionless.

I snapped out of it and helped her up. The soldiers shouldn't be too far now, considering that the footsteps and shouts were increasing in volume. I quickly wrapped Riley's wound with the cleanest rag I could find and we ran as fast as we could out of that shithole.

"Come on, come on." I stammered as she leaned on me, we exited the alleyway and took several turns from the roads that we encountered. My heart was racing, the only person that I had cared for was fucking shot. And if that didn't help, a bunch of military rouges were on us. Like dogs, they were all barking and growling, wanting a piece of the injured deer that they were running after._  
_

When I took the fifth turn, a soldier had flanked our side and tackled me, doing so made me lose my grip on Riley. She let go and struggled to stand up, looking at me painfully as I was getting placed in a headlock by the dear ol' man.

He attempted to strangle me, his hand meeting my mouth. Big mistake. I bit his finger with as much force as my teeth would allow, and he screamed achingly and quickly withdrew. Now free, I tried to take my switchblade out from my pocket, but the soldier's iron fist had met paths with my jaw before I could sink the blade in him.

The impact made me fall almost immediately, my fragile chin felt like broken glass and my vision was blurry. I could hear Riley scream my name in concern and terror. My vision was hazy, I felt faint.

But a gunshot had rang through, and it stimulated my senses briefly.

_BANG!_

Then two more were quickly fired after the first one. A sudden urge of panic and dread came over me as I hoped to God that it wasn't the soldier who fired those shots.

...

...

Fortunately, it was Riley who held the gun.

The soldier fell with a large thud, a small puddle of blood started to form below his body. I staggered to get up, my face felt incredibly swollen and sore. Riley reloaded her gun, her face flooded with pain and worry.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice was still strong, yet her frame was not.  
"Y-yeah. But, Riley, you-"

She held up a hand before I could try and dress her wound.  
"Later." she persisted. "Not when we got these fucking soldiers everywhere."

I nodded, not wanting to prolong her suffering as we ran again. Twenty agonizing minutes had passed, and our pacing slowed. Riley leaned on a wall and panted heavily, obviously showing signs of extreme pain.

"Can you still keep up?" I asked desperately, hoping for a positive answer.  
"I don't think I can." she whimpered softly, my palms were sweaty and jittery. I had no idea on how to react to the situation.

"W-what do you want me to do?"

The rag that covered her wound was now drenched in crimson, tiny droplets of blood often dripped to the floor. She was losing blood, it would be fatal if it wasn't properly treated.  
"Just give me a second, Ellie." Riley said as she raised a hand to her upper left arm. She got a roll of bandages from her backpack and replaced it with the old rag. The fact that we were out in the open made me feel anxious.

"The bullet, it's still there—"

"I know that!"

I was taken aback a little,

Maybe a lot.

But I knew she was in pain.

Riley sighed, two fingers pressed to her forehead.

"Sorry. My mind is really messed up at the moment."

"It's fine, I get it. Here—let me help you with that." I started to wrap the bandage on her arm and tightened it to stop most of the bleeding.

The air was still.

...  
...

"Riley." I spoke, breaking the quietness.

"Mm?"

"You're gonna be okay, right?"

She looked at me—then at the bandage.

"I'll be fine."

I nodded my head, finishing up the bandage.

"Good."

I didn't believe it.

Riley got on her feet and gave off a weak smile. "Thanks, El. I think that'll do."

We exited the alleyway and started to cross the road, she was ahead of me, yet she limped every now and then.

Limping was not a good sign.

"You sure you're alright?"

Riley nodded. "Bother's me, but I've dealt with worse."

A few moments had passed, and we ended up rounding a curb. This was the abandoned, less-watched areas of Boston. If there weren't any soldiers around, the infected would probably be sulking.

We kept our noise to a minimal.

"I think we should rest in that building over there." I suggested, pointing at a faded red apartment.

"What—and get ambushed by Runners?"

"Would you rather like resting on the goddamn road? Out in the open? 'Cause we can do that."

She gave in. "Smart-ass."

We walked over to it and settled inside for a while.

We sat and leaned on the wall, thinking of what to do next. The soldiers should have lost our tracks by now, so resting would have been plausible.

Uneasily, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax.

Just for a few minutes.

…

…

_FWAP!_

All of a sudden, a jolt of electricity filled my body. Every part was tingling and my skin felt like it was burning, I moaned in pain after the short shock. And after the electricity had exited, my nerves failed to function, and I fell harshly to the ground.

A man stood before me with a taser in his hand. He didn't seem to be from the military, his tall shadowy figure fell on me. My conscience grew dark, muffled echos of my name reaching out toward me.

_How the _hell_ did they find us?_

Riley yelled out my name, practically horrified, before rushing at the man with full force.

She shrugged off her gunshot wound like it was _nothing_.

"You fucking asshole!" The punch attempted to land on him.

It failed.

The man had dodged her attack, making Riley lose her balance. As her guard was down, he shocked her from behind with his taser.

_Bzzzzzt!_

I watched helplessly as I saw Riley fall down beside me, unconscious, like she was brain-dead.

No.

"Stop . . !" I grunted, trying with all my might to get up, but the man kicked my gut from the side and I toppled on the floor again. The pain engulfed my body, it was too intense, I couldn't stay conscious enough for it to lessen.

I was going to black out.

But before I did, I heard shoes scraping the rough floor, and another figure appeared next to the man. A muffled voice pierced the air, it was strict and strong, like a leader's.

"Take them to the hideout."

He nodded and carried Riley like a sack of rice. He walked off while the other person remained, they seemed to be looking down at me.

I watched the man disappear as he continued to hold Riley. I had no idea where he was taking her, and the thought of that was horrendous.

I lifted my arm and reached out my hand, every muscle was aching within me.

"Riley . . . " I tried to call out, but she didn't hear me. Of course she wouldn't. I knew that it was useless, but I called her anyway.

In exhaustion, my arm collapsed, my cheek touched the cold stony floor. I didn't know what to do, everything seemed to shut down inside of my head. I could hear my heartbeat much more clearly now, my chest aching after each individual pulse. Before I couldn't take it any longer, I spotted the figure in my peripheral. They moved from their position slowly and walked up to me, the light above shone brightly on their face and I could finally identify who it was.

It was Marlene.

…

…

...

Everything went dark.


	8. Insistence

**Author's Note: No more cliffhangers this chapter.  
I promise! All right?  
**

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**Chapter Eight: Insistence**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**-RILEY-**

The first feeling that I sensed the moment I had awoken out of the darkness was uneasiness.

There was no jolting out of bed, or a scream that pierced my dreams. It was just the soft opening of my eyes, adjusting to the artificial light above me.

Not realizing that my chest ached each time I breathed in, I gave another sharp intake of air, allowing my lungs to shrivel up and to cough the strange pain out of my system. There was an attempt to prop myself up on my elbows, but my upper left arm had an immense pain stabbing through it the second I tried.

"Jes—" Gripping for the aching area, I moaned in pain. _"...Fuuuck."_

My previously soiled denim jacket had been taken away from me, my gray tank serving as the only top. A swollen, bandaged left arm could be seen as I tried to examine what was supposed to be the damage. Strange, I didn't really recall redressing the thing.

"Don't move too much, Melanie'll patch you up further, I thought you needed some rest." A voice. Female and dark, it sounded steady.

I yanked my head back, trying to find the source of sound.

_"Wha—?"_

And in the room where I was confided in, Marlene was sitting on a chair, two glasses of water were standing solemnly on the table beside her. She tilted her head, as if mildly interested at my reaction. She stood up and grabbed a glass before walking over and offering the beverage to me.

"Drink,"

I took the glass and did as told. Turned out, I was thirstier than usual, practically finishing the whole drink.

"Don't think I've formally apologized about the previous. . . incident." she said, returning to sit on her chair. I gave her a miffed look.

Incident?

". . .Where am I?"

Marlene raised a brow. "I suspect those two days of doing what I had ordered you _not_ to do had chipped away some of your memory, Abel."

...

Oh shit. The ambush.

My stomach lurched, uneasiness finding itself in my bones. What I felt earlier as amenity became the opposite, now knowing that I've found myself inside of the headquarters of a group that I chose to leave.

"I can explain—"

Marlene brought out a chair. "Sit down, Riley."

Oh, boy.

My still recovering body had turned me into a sloth, and I struggled to get up from the mattress that I'd been apparently sleeping on for a while. Marlene didn't budge from her seat, she pressed two fingers on her temples, eyes closed and meditating.

...

She opened her eyes. Deep, dark brown pupils that found their way on my lighter ones; I visibly gulped. Marlene is an intimidating woman, and she finds every visible opportunity to withhold the wildness contained within me. She couldn't withhold me from this one, though.

"One, simple instruction. And you turn out missing for two days, only to be found later with the girl whom I _specifically_ told you not to meet."

"I wanted to see her—"

"You intentionally disobeyed my orders, Abel. The crew I had originally assigned you with have already been sent out." she interrupted. "You sneaked out of this base, went ahead to that damn military school, and somehow, you persuaded _her_ to come along with you in that condemned mall."

...

"But that's just the tip of the iceberg."

My toes were curling up, circles of sweat embedding themselves across my forehead and nose, I couldn't even have the nerve to brush them off without Marlene looking at me.

_..._

"We saw the bite when we unwrapped her bandage."

_Fuck._

I felt my fingers gripping tightly to the bottom base of the chair. My heart was pounding so fast that it hurt.

They knew that she was Infected.

...

"It.. it was an accident... you can't... neutralize her." I mumbled. "She got bitten, but she's not getting the symptoms, I-I swear... Please, it's been two da—"

"Three." Marlene corrected. "Three days since she's been bitten."

There was a spark present in her dark brown eyes.

"Wha. . ?"

"It went over the maximum limit, Abel."

...

The maximum limit. Of course. Everyone's death clock if ever they'd become Infected, if you weren't caught by the military yet, you had approximately 48 hours to confess all of your dirty sins.

Ellie's life expectancy had expanded a day longer.  
No one—_no one_ in recorded history—has ever made it to the third day.

Which only meant one thing, and it was extremely difficult for me to comprehend it all.

"I would've skinned you alive for dooming her, but if she hadn't gotten that bite... we wouldn't have known." She smirked, amazed at how everything connected.

"You're saying that . . . she's . . ."

"Immune, Abel." Marlene finished, "She's immune to the cordyceps."

...

...

This was it.

This was what the Fireflies had been fantasizing for, _looking_ for. The immunity. The hope. The _light_.

I placed my hands on my forehead, breathing out deeply.

"I. . ."

_Ellie won't turn._

"This is. . ."

_She's not going to die._

"I, I can't. . ."

_She's not leaving me behind._

Caught up in it all, I stood up from the chair, a yell of glee escaping out of my lungs despite the pain. I punched the air in triumph, as if I had won a contest.

_ "Yes!"_

Marlene probably thought that I was celebrating on the discovery on behalf of the Firefly community. Well—it was partially the reason, but the confirmation of knowing that Ellie wouldn't became a Runner and die meant the fucking world to me.

I knew it. I fucking _knew_ it from the start, but I'd been doubting the whole while. This time was real, she was immune. It still takes my breath away, until now.

The Firefly leader allowed me to have my little moment there, and I apologized for the sudden behavior.

"Sorry," I said, sitting back down. "That was insubordinate to our protocol."

_Insubordinate. Protocol. _I could sense Marlene internally swooning over my choice of words that I know she's a sucker for. Thank you, military vocabulary.

Her lips were thinning by the second. "We also found this,"  
She grabbed a chain necklace of some sorts from her pocket and plopped it down on the table.

Apprehension returned to my body, like it took no trouble, a daily routine.

"Your pendant, Abel. We found it in your backpack, interestingly, the chain is broken."

My stomach was dropping._  
_I was a fool. How easy I thought leaving the Fireflies would be. Foolish.

"My pendant," I mumbled, hands rubbing my neck, "yes, of course, _my_ pendant..."

Marlene wasn't satisfied, she took her glass of water, drinking a quarter of it meekly. When she placed the glass back down, her expression was almost predatory.

"Abel. Spill."

She had that tone, that genuine leadership tone.

Closing my eyes, I breathed out.  
_This is it._

..

"I didn't want to leave her."

Her eyebrows were raised slightly. "As I thought."  
"I don't get it," I said, "why is it that you want me to be as far from her as possible? You're even risking yourself in shipping me off."

"I had reasons."  
I felt my face twitch. "Such as?"

Marlene shifted in her seat. "Riley, I know how you and Ellie are when it comes to trouble-making. You running off to see her wasn't a surprise, I feared for your safety— her safety, of course. Getting you out of the city would mean placing both of your lives in a safer predicament." she mused. "But I guess you thought that discharging yourself from our cause and disappearing with Ellie would be easier."

...

Thinking about it, running off on our own did seem marginally stupid.

Okay, tremendously stupid fits better.

"So what happens now?"

The next words seemed to have rolled out of her tongue effortlessly. "We'll put you back into that school, Ellie definitely isn't. I've conferred with the 'Flies outside of the city. One of our scout groups will escort Ellie to the Capitol, there's a base where they can study on her immuni—"

"What?" I gawked, astonished that she was trying to separate us again. "Marlene, no, you can't. I..I can't go back to that school, there's nowhere for me to go."

"And where do you suppose I'll put you, then?"

...

I gulped. "I'll go with Ellie."  
Marlene's face scrunched. "What?"

"I want to go with her. To the... the Capitol—"

"I heard what you said." she interrupted. Her voice was edged, sharp and rigid like the blade of a knife's. "But that's outrageous, do you think I'll just—"

My cheeks started to heat up. "This isn't fair, you can't be the one who chooses—"

Marlene's grip on the glass tightened.

"Enough." she demanded, though softly. "Reflect, Abel, on your past actions. You _did_ run off to see her, and you _did_ place both of your lives in danger. If Ellie wasn't immune, you'd be blamed. You're not a Firefly anymore, based on your apparent leaving, so why should I be obliged to carry you along?"

"Firefly or not, I _am_ going with her." I replied. "I'll join the Fireflies again, I'll—"

"And you think joining back will make me want to bring you along?" she scoffed, from across the table, she leaned her torso toward me. "Does this all appear as a _game_ to you?"

My mind was rushed and hazy. A game would be the last thing in my head. I clenched my eyes, imagining where Ellie could be at this given moment. My chest ached, my everything ached. Talking about her had encouraged my wants to see her.

"Marlene," I breathed in, voice steady. "I can't go back to that school, and I _can't_ get deployed out of Boston, even if I did join back."

...

"I'll. . . I'll do anything you say." I suggested. I did not think the words through, I just spilled whatever I assumed would help in the situation. Looking back, I see myself as a child, willing to do anything for a stick of candy. "I'll watch over her, make sure she won't get hurt. Anything. Just, please, let me go with her." I was a child.

She did not move from her chair.  
Frankly, she sat more upright.

The silence elapsed for so long, my eyes traced around her, hoping that she would consider and assign me along with the escort entourage.

As expected, she did no such thing.

"You said you would do anything I'd say," Marlene clenched her fists, slowly, carefully, intimidatingly, "and when I say this, I mean it."

The next words hit me with brutality.

"Whether you join the Fireflies or not, I _will_ move you out of Boston. For one thing, you're right. Assigning you back in that school is too much trouble, too much unnecessary effort. They will ask questions about your previous leaving, and eventually, they'll trace Ellie's disappearance with yours. I cannot afford that. Not with the resources we've now obtained. Everything is too precious. She's too precious."

I wanted to object about referring to Ellie like she was an object, but I clamped my lips, my fingernails digging into my fabricated knees. Marlene's dark eyes have grown fierce and sharp, she looked bigger than before. More intimidating, it was hard to believe that a table was separating us.

"And by all means, I _cannot_ afford for you to interfere with our mission." she continued, her voice was louder now. "I _will not_ pair you up with her just to wait for the military to shoot you up and to tell you afterwards that I was right. This is serious, Abel. Together, you two are dangerous, and I will not risk anything for the damn sake of petty little friendships. You won't go with her, and that is _final._"

She stood up from her chair, and I was left with gaping eyes. Dark and hollow, like they were empty. Every move she seemed to make was meticulous. I guess it's a trait that most defined leaders share, that detail in the way they move, like each act they use has a purpose. I couldn't seem to find the purpose in why she was doing this to me, though.

She sounded like a hypocrite.

How could she tell me that this was beyond friendships, when she herself had sworn an oath to Ellie's mother—her own friend—to keep her safe? How could my promise to Ellie be any different from hers?

"But you know everything about friendships, don't you?" I said, and I surprised myself for even having the nerve to speak. I crossed that line, I did, and Marlene turned to look at me; her look was more of alarmed than anything else. Not a trace of malice could be seen in her face.

So I continued.

"You promised Anna that you'd protect Ellie, right, Marlene?" She winced at the name, a name that belonged to a person I knew she cared for. I knew it was none of my business, but I couldn't help it. I had to persuade her. "Because she was your friend. I promised to Ellie that I wouldn't leave her, that I'd _protect_ her. I need to go with her, you have to understand. She's my friend. . ."

More than a friend.  
". . . I _need_ to protect her."

For a second, Marlene's expression was almost empathizing. But it went away in the same amount of time it had came.

She looked at me for a final time, but this time, her eyes were soft.

"Which is why I'm sending you away." she replied, her voice was soft, sounding cold but sorry simultaneously. She turned on her heel, her back facing me, and exited out of the room. The door had closed shut and emancipated a noise that covered the whole room. I was left alone, not even knowing where Ellie was.

...

She was separating me from her. Again.

I swiped the glasses off the table in frustration.

* * *

**3 HOURS LATER**

I awoke a second time.  
Only this term, a pale face had arrived to greet me.

"Riley," The voice was feminine. Teenage feminine. It resembled highly of one that belonged to a girl with a scarred brow.

Ellie.

I couldn't even believe it myself, even if she pressed her lips to mine the second my name had rolled off her mouth. My vision had cleared the sleep off of my eyes, and I found her sitting beside me as I laid on my mattress. I could only stare back in disbelief when she pulled back from me, her eyes wide and green.

"Sorry, was that too sudden?"

How was she sitting there? After what Marlene had said? Was that just a dream?

"No, I—. . ."

I couldn't even think, all I could do was embrace her, my bandaged shoulder aching as I moved my torso up and wrapped my arms around her. Ellie chuckled, her hands rubbing circles around the sides of my waist. "Yeah, I'm glad to see you too."

Pulling away from her, my were hands firmly planted on both her shoulders. "Where. . . where the hell were you? I haven't seen you since the uh, the ambush."

I realized, that after the small conference with Marlene, I attempted to get out of the room, only to notice that it was locked from the outside. After several attempts in kicking it open, I grew tired (and frustrated because I basically destroyed the glasses of water that I needed to drink from exhaustion), and collapsed in the bed to wait it out.

Her hands hadn't left my waist, and she pulled me closer toward her, our bodies creating contact that I slightly shuddered in a strange feeling. She never did this to me before, I wonder what had manipulated her to do it now. Her face looked stoic.

"You sound more confused than happy, you know."

I knew what she was doing.  
Tempting me.  
But I went ahead and fell for her bait anyway.

"Are you kidding?" I closed the space between us, leaving only haggard breaths and surprised squeals of pleasure. Ellie didn't buckle, her hands held the sides of my face, I could feel her grin pressing against my lips.

"I am. . ." I breathed out, after the kiss. ". . . ecstatic to see you."

Her hand trailed down from my cheek to my neck, her touch sending electric shocks to my veins. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Yeah," I said, my eyes shifting down to the mattress we sat on.

And after that comfortable silence, my mind clicked, focusing on the events of before.  
"Uh, did Marlene. . ." I gulped. The talk with that woman stained my thoughts. ". . . has she told you. . ?"

"She told me a wide variety of things, Riley." Ellie replied, sounding nonchalant. She held up her right forearm, a newly-wrapped bandage was sticking out of the midsection of her arm. "It feels weird to suddenly have so much. . . importance."

I frowned.  
"Don't say that. You were important before they learned about your immunity, El." I set her arm down so it could rest on her lap. "_Which_—by the way, is incredibly awesome and I can't believe that you're fucking immune—but setting that aside, you're important to me. Before and after."

"Oh, please," and she scoffed, "you're cheesy remarks are fucking poisonous. You should see how the Fireflies are handling me now, it's hilarious."

I grabbed on to her arms, feeling the soft texture of the bandage on my right hand. "But no, seriously. Marlene. Did she tell you about—"

"About you leaving Boston?" she finished. "Yes."  
I gave her a marginally annoyed expression. "That's it? Yes? You're _okay_ with it?"

Her look was astonished.  
"What?" She lightly pushed my shoulder, it wasn't the bandaged one, thank God, and laughed. "Of course not, Riley, Jesus. I threw my fucking shit for you. Had to spend more than an hour convincing Marlene that she should bring you along with me, for Christ's sake."

I blinked twice.

"You did what?"  
"What, you think I was okay with them letting you go?" She pushed my shoulder again. "Abel, you are delusional."

And again, I stopped thinking.  
I grabbed her by the waist, flipping our positions, and pressed my lips on hers. Ellie's reaction was surprisingly squeamish, and she laughed in between our kisses as she fumbled to try and get me off. Go ahead and call us corny, really, I couldn't care less.

"The hell was that all about?" she replied, though her lips were still connected to mine.

"A way of thanks I guess," I shrugged, pulling away from her and allowing the two of us to sit on the mattress. She smirked.

"Really? Huh, I'll remind myself to do more favors for you, then."

I grinned, allowing her to fluff down beside me, and we both ended up lying on the mattress beside each other. Momentarily, I had only wanted this. Just me and her, looking up at the ceiling without a need to say anything. Sometimes, some things didn't need saying.

But my mind could not stop lingering on Marlene, it was a damn stubborn itch.

...

"What'd you do?"

She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at me.

"Do what?"  
"To Marlene, to get her to make me come with you?"

Ellie's eyebrows raised in delight, her deviant green eyes enlarging momentarily. "The typical stuff."

"Like throwing tantrums?" I suggested.  
"_No._ Kind of talked her into it, surprisingly, she bought it."

Surprisingly, I never knew she could manipulate her to do that.

It still stunned me, at how quick it all happened. One moment, I've been told that I was departing Boston, the next, I was staying with Ellie, and I hadn't seen a trace of Marlene since the talk.

Hey, I wasn't complaining. I was fine with the way things were going, mind you.

Half an hour later or so, a Firefly—Trevor—had entered the room while Ellie and I were playing with our belongings, said that we needed to pack our bags for a room transfer.

Upon exiting out of the chamber for what seemed like forever, the sun was sinking low into the landscape, signalling dusk. I raised my brows, looking to my left where Ellie was walking beside me.

"How long were we out for?"  
She shrugged. "A day, I guess."

It was enough to surprise me even further. We've been out cold for a whole damn day. No wonder I found Marlene in such an untimely position. Was she _watching_ me sleep? Did she purposely plan those glasses of water to sit there? Waiting to tell me the plans she had in store for me? I clenched my jaw.

Trevor walked ahead of us, his boots clomping against the cinder block flooring as we shuffled in the wedges of tight walls and corners. The Firefly hideout may be safe, but it's not the most luxurious thing in the world. After some time, we arrived at a small building, leading into short hallways of rooms. The paint was dark and peeling, Ellie scrunched her nose in disgust.

He showed us to a room in the middle of one of the branched out hallways, a faint Firefly insignia was implanted on the side of the door. Sighing, I felt for the broken pendant in my pocket, I didn't even know if I was still a part of this group or not. Everything had gone complicated, and it was too late to back down.

Trevor didn't say anything else other than the fact that we would be staying here for the time being. He queried for Ellie's well-being; and when she replied with contentment, I sighed, remembering Marlene's words. _She's too precious._

_You've only realized that once you learned she was immune._ I wanted to tell her. But I couldn't bring myself to it. Maybe I was fearing that she would slap me if I ever did manage to have the guts to blurt it out. And frankly, I didn't want to experience how it felt to have an iron fist collide with one's skin. I couldn't.

The room had a window that featured a wall. Sunset light was showering over the area, a mattress stood in one corner, large enough for two people. There wasn't much but a table, some chairs, and the bed. I haven't been used to so much space, our dorms back at school had been too crowded, and the previous chambers from when I first came here were occupied with other Firefly militants. Here, it was just me and Ellie.

Trevor closed the door behind him, leaving the both of us in the room.

And when I looked back at her, her skin looking bronze against the dusk light, her black undershirt that contrasted against her skin and her reddish brown hair that looked surprisingly auburn and vibrant than before, I smiled. For once, everything had gone the way I wanted it to. There would be no partings between us, she would not die from the Infection, and I would not have to get shipped out of Boston. We were going to figure it out. Together. We were going to do this together.

It churned my stomach.  
'Together' was a word I had to start getting used to.

* * *

**A lot of you have asked this question, so I will answer.  
****Joel will be in this story. I am making this fanfic follow the events from the Main Campaign.**

**Thanks again for your feedback! I'd love to hear more!  
****-Taco**


	9. Remember

**Hello, and welcome back! Here's chapter nine, newly reconstructed.**

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**Chapter Nine: Remember**

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The afternoon breeze drifted across the room, he had been looking out the broken window for far too long. The unpalatable scent of the urban city wafted in and mixed with the previous breeze; he crinkled his nose as a sign of dislike and turned away from the window. The rotted walls greeted him as the paint started to rot away.

A few minutes had passed and there was a gentle knock on the door, he didn't have the time to notice it. The man seemed to be miles away from the scenario at the moment, busy thinking about something else.

The knocks eventually grew louder,

and louder,  
and louder.

Until a voice sneaked its way in from the other side.

"Joel."

He snapped from the brief trance and faced back to the window, scowling.

"It ain't locked."

With this information, the door opened.  
A woman emerged from the outside, light peering in from her direction and showering upon Joel's alcove. He squinted his eyes, a slight irate face had been painted on him.

She knew the rules. She knew that these were his private, contemplative sessions where _private_ would be heavily and strictly emphasized. She knew better than to make relations and look after her own business partners. When it came to smuggling, she and Joel knew where to stand and where to back off. You were expected to back when the days would come wherein people would undergo heavy emotional duress and alone time.

This was one of those days.  
And she couldn't possibly care less.

"You alright?" was the first thing she uttered. It was under the stuffy air, filled with urban revolts and broken memories.

Joel's face had been covered with both his hands, and he dropped them down onto his lap with lazy conviction.

"Headache." he said.

She scoffed. "Some headache."  
Joel could only grunt in reply.

Then, the room fell silent.

On an addition, these were the days were the words needed most were not spoken. However, one would not always use their mouths to express them. Sometimes, it could be disguised through other words and actions. May it be leaning against doorways, sitting modestly on a chair, or exchanging stares, actions were profound and somewhat meticulous.

Silence was also used.  
Indeed, at most times, saying nothing was only all one could say.

With the two persons looking contemplative at each other for what seemed to be more than a minute, the elastic string of silence had stretched, and stretched some more, leaving only a few more meters before the band would break—

"Go easy on yourself, Texas."

Joel hesitated before nodding slightly, his rough beard covered with one hand. His memories, those familiar yet unknowing memories, had peered from every direction, appearing in cracks, holes, and openings. The least anyone could do was to let him deal with it alone.

Or, so he thought, anyway.

When the door had been closed shut and he was left in solitude once again, the man slumped into a worn out couch, with its cushions flat and uncomfortable. Upon sitting, his hazel eyes had scanned the room, eyes that hadn't seemed so fragile until this particular day.

Suddenly, everything around him morphed.

The walls were just freshly painted, a gleam of teal brightened the area and complimented the polished wooden floor. A coffee table was before the man, which held a mug and some newspapers all piled up prostrate. A ceiling fan moved rapidly from above, with yellow songbirds chirping and flying just outside the window.

Straight out of humanity's distant fairy tale.  
Joel turned to his left, and the result made his heart stop beating.

On the far end of the settee he sat on, was a young, yellow-haired girl. Her knees had been brought up to her chest, her arms acting as a padlock to secure her lower limbs. The pale, aqua eyes that belonged to her were furiously watching something streamed on the television. The smile on her face was concealed by her knees, a smile Joel remembered that once belonged to a similar young, yellow-haired girl.

"Sar—. . . Sarah. . ." he whispered, reaching a hand to her.

He touched her arm. A feeling of surrealism.  
Suddenly, the phantom girl had exploded into untouchable crystals, scattering around the room so quick and untimely that the man had stumbled back to the other side of the couch, his whole body stunned and malfunctioning.

"No!"

The room deteriorated to its form twenty years into the present.

He said it again, softer this time.  
"No . . ."

Again, like most of the vivid things he saw from time, the hallucinations were getting the better of him. Making him believe that she would somehow still be alive, and that humanity hadn't really fallen apart and that what he was experiencing at the moment was just another, typical nightmare.

What appalled him, was that what he once thought of reality, was real.

* * *

He held her in his arms, an infant whom was almost a day old. He stood there along with a younger boy as he cradled the girl. A new sense of responsibility crept upon him. Joel was young, too young to have a child. He was only eighteen. After a heated argument with the mother, Joel had volunteered to raise the newborn.

He had already planned on what to do, ask for assistance from his parents, skip college and get a job. That job would be the foundation, helping him to send her daughter to school and eventually a house that suited their needs. It would be a difficult road to cross, but as he gazed upon the child he was overwhelmed with determination. Vowing to himself to give his daughter a better life.

"Oh my God. This's unbelievable." the younger brother said, gawking at the sleeping baby.

"What's Mom and Dad gon' think?" he asked nervously, looking up at Joel. Tommy, who had just entered his teenage years, was now undeniably awestruck at the realization that he was an uncle.

He had asked Tommy if he could come over to his room to check on something. Out of all the things he guessed, he didn't expect that Joel would present to him a _baby_.

"Well, whether they like it or not, We're takin' care of her." he replied, rocking the infant to and fro carefully. Tommy tiptoed to examine his new niece better. "A _her_? Kid's a girl? What're you gonna name 'er then?"

Joel was silent, pondering carefully to think of a name. A name that he would always be fond of. He imagined her daughter to be a feisty little spirit, energetic, independent, and sweet. What would pair with those kinds of characteristics?

". . . Sarah." he mumbled.

"Sarah?" Tommy mimicked.

He was unsure whether or not the characteristics would suit the name, but it didn't matter. It had a ring to it.

"Yeah. . . that's right. Hey, Sarah_._" he embraced her softly, a proud sense of fatherhood filled the adult, a love that was irreplaceable and caring. Never, would he think, that a tiny, newborn baby would be capable of achieving the greatest place any man could give. She had stolen his heart.

He was his daughter.  
He was a father.

"Goodnight, baby girl."

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

"I don't believe it."

"Serious."

I shook my head. "Really?"  
Riley nodded.

"And you didn't tell me sooner?"

She readjusted her sitting position as we lay on the mattress. "I thought you knew."

"Riley, I don't even know if it's a goddamn Thursday."  
"Wednesday." Riley corrected. "Marlene has a calendar."

"Of course she does."

And then I exhaled, this exhausted kind of exhale, covering my shame-filled face with my shame-filled hands because apparently, I had forgotten that Riley turned sixteen shortly after her leaving to join the Fireflies.

Of course, looking back, I wouldn't even remember if her birthday did come by. And I also wouldn't be greeting a friend who had decided to leave me a day after a fight that had temporarily ruptured our intimacy.

Speaking of Riley, after I had removed the hands from my face, she had her coffee-spectrum-splintered eyes looking at me in this slightly forlorn way. I frowned, because this was one of the very rare times she would have her God-kissed universal eyes looking at me as if I had just eaten both her plate and mine for breakfast.

"Stop looking at me like that." I told her.  
She seemed clueless. "Like what?"

"Like I'm a horrible person."

"You're not a horrible person, El."  
"Well, you're looking at me like I am."

"You know," Riley sighed, "it's not a big deal, okay? It doesn't even—"

She had been cut short when the door with the Firefly insignia had opened curtly.

Marlene stood in the passageway.  
"Girls," she said, almost as if out-of-breath. "Change of plans."

Riley and I stood up in unison, approaching Marlene who had allowed herself inside of the dorm. Her hair seemed to be in a mess, with beads of sweat still collecting themselves on any revealing skin.

"There's been a slight . . ." She paused, and looked up for the ceiling in search for the word she'd been looking for. Found it: "disruption. . ."

Disruption?

"What d'you mean?" queried Riley.

...

"Our dispatch group's been . . . terminated."

...

Oh.

...

Marlene continued, "Damn military'd lynched them from Baltimore en route to our location. My boys say that they haven't tracked us to this hideout yet, but those men were supposed to escort us to the Capitol."

"What are you suggesting then?" perked Riley again, her shoulders suddenly broader.

"I'm suggesting that we delay the escort for nine to fourteen days before we assign another group. We can't let the military know." She shook her head. "I mean, considering Boston. . . we just can't take a risk."

Ironically, taking risks were a foundation of this newly-found life that I had unknowingly chosen to live. Same went for Riley. And although I understood where Marlene was coming from, two weeks of staying confided inside of a Firefly base with little to no activity wasn't what I envisioned the first few days of my rather exciting new lifestyle to be.

"So... what are _we_ gonna do?" I asked, gesturing to the both of us.

"You wait."

Marlene probably sensed the incoming groan, because she spoke up again before either of us could emit it.

"For safety reasons, I've assigned a Firefly who's willing to show you some basic combat techniques. Go and see him, sitting in this dorm's not going to do you any good. His room's not too far from here, just outside the corridor, to the right."

Don't get me wrong, I was grateful. But ever since settling in and feeling at home, the fact that we were doing something similar to military drills and practices made me want to sink back down into the mattress with Riley, forever to be undisturbed.

Marlene did a quick examination on our expressions.

"You two understand, right?"

We replied reluctantly in unison. "Yeah."

"Good." Standing up, she went for the door. "His name's Geoff. Try and get along with him, by the way. He isn't as. . . similar. . . to the rest of the guys."

Then, the door closed, leaving Riley and I in solitude for the second time.

I collapsed into the bed, face first.  
Riley followed suit.

...

"We have to go eventually." she spoke, voice muffled by the mattress.

"I know." I said, with the same vocal effect.

When we did manage to get up, however, it took some time to try and not procrastinate and shrug off our assigned duties. Riley had gotten up first, persuading me to follow her by grabbing my heel and pulling me off of the bed we had collapsed on. On the verge of falling off, I agreed, putting on the necessary clothing attire before heading out and into the main base.

We followed Marlene's directions, our eyes locating for the man.

Actually, it came to both of our attention that she didn't really describe Geoff's appearance other than the fact that he wasn't as common as the typical Firefly. I asked Riley if she knew what the hell that meant.

"How should I know?"

Typical of her.

When we reached the corridor to the right, a man was sitting on the chair, his head hung low as he appeared to be dozing off.

My feet froze.

_That_ man.

"Riley," I whispered, not sure why I was.  
"What?" she whispered back, not sure why she was either.

I viewed the man, whom I was assuming was Geoff. Despite his sleeping posture, he had the same tall and broad size that I had witnessed a few days ago when my cheek was touching the texture of a cold, rough cement floor.

The realization hit me hard.

The result caused the words to stumble out of my mouth in a rushed, hurried pace.

"Geoff's the guy who ambushed us."

...

"Oh."

Oh indeed.

Pushing the past aside, he probably had to obey orders. Surely, this wasn't what Marlene meant when he was different than the rest?

Riley nudged my elbow, whispering, "Well, are you gonna wake him up, or what?"

"Why am _I_ gonna wake him up?"  
"Why not?"

I turned at her, with this incredulous look that I always wore. "_Why not?_ He fucking jumped on us, for Christ's sake—"

Geoff stirred.

_Oh shit._

We snapped back to our positions, feet frozen to the ground.

It had been too late, because right now, his eyes were open.

And they were on us.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, his beanie almost slipping off from his head.

I tried to reply, but my tongue had been cut off by an invisible scissor.

In desperate help, I turned to Riley with a frantic look. She returned the expression, only for it to die when she faced Geoff in all his hugeness.

"Marlene said that you'd be willing to"—she cleared her throat—"to train us with . . . drills." Riley replied, twiddling her thumbs childishly. This bear of a man, with his tall height and low voice, examined the two of us carefully, his brows lifted as he recognized our faces. Not sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Oh, it's you two." He swiped a finger across his nose. "Yeah, you're the kids from yesterday."

"Yeah. The kids whom _you_ personally knocked out." I added, unsure how my tongue had gotten back to its place. Geoff stood up from the plastic chair, it smothered into smithereens the moment he got up, but no one else had noticed aside from myself.

"Now why the hell should I even consider straightenin' out you two brats?"

Riley remained silent, his frame loomed over us.

I wanted to be sassy. Wanted to tell him to screw off.

But I only pulled out my right arm.

And rolled up the sleeve.

The bite mark looked at him with puzzled confusion, befuddled at why I'd decided to disturb it.

"Now listen," I told him, "Marlene'd probably told you about this, but here it is. _This_ is the light. Suck it up. You're training these two brats because your whole cause for joining this goddamn militia group _depends_ on it."

I was taken aback by my own remark—even Riley.

Geoff could only stare. His eyes squinted, trying to size us up.

After a moment, he cracked a lousy grin.

"Smartass. I like it—that spunk."

He beckoned for the door at the end of the hallway.

"Get your asses in there, will you?" He yawned, leading us. Riley and I were behind him, feeling slightly better of ourselves.

The hallways felt like a labyrinth. After several turns we finally found our way to the area. Geoff opened the door and we found ourselves in an open room. There was no furniture but a small desk table on the far right corner, the small translucent light at the center of the ceiling gave poor balance in the room.

It was damp and dusty, was _this_ where we were going to train?

"God, ever heard of spring cleaning?" I coughed. "Can't even breathe with all these dust bunnies."

Geoff grunted as he walked over to the desk table. "Kid, if you weren't the cure I woulda locked you in this goddamn room if that's the only thing to stop you from complaining. Even then you'll start to miss that shitty school of yours." He pulled out the top drawer and took out a pair of gym towels, one on each of his hands.

"Now, you came here to train, right? I ain't your cleanin' lady, and I ain't your caretaker either." he said as he handed us the towels. "So don't go and throw a fit when you manage to get a bruise on your skin, that clear?"

Riley and I hung the towels on the side of our shoulder, it felt cool to the touch.  
"We've dealt with worse, old man." Riley said as she crossed her arms, her bandaged shoulder facing more forward.

"Oh, I know, child." he smirked, approaching her.  
"I'm not a chil—"

The man hit her, hard.

"Jesus—"

It was only a singular blow that sent Riley to the ground, she clutched the side of her cheek and grunted from the aftermath. Infuriated, I looked up at his towering figure; resisting with all my might to not hit him with fear that I would end up the same as her.

"That wasn't part of _anything_!" I yelled, helping Riley up with my free hands. She got up on her own with little struggle, thanking me nonetheless.

He laughed, as if it was a joke. A joke!

"First rule of fightin': Don't get caught off guard."

"You didn't even tell us if the training'd started, you fucking lunatic." Riley managed to say, her stricken cheek slightly swelling red.

"Ah, that's what you think, child. It'd already started ever since you went through that door." He crossed his arms, looking down at Riley with smug. Compared to his size, both she and I were dwarfs. Maybe the whole child-calling thing meant some business, after all.

"Please stop calling me that."

"What, child?"  
She grunted, "Yes."

Geoff brought a hand to his beard, "Depends. How old are ya?"

"Sixteen."

"Ain't you a little short to be that age?"

Ooh, that hit her.

"Listen here, you fu—"

Geoff threw another unaware punch. My stomach lurched.  
But _fortunately_ for this time, Riley countered it.

She had dodged it as she moved her body to the left, grabbing the arm with one hand to restrict it from moving.

"Whoa." was all she managed to say, dumbstruck to even her own actions.

"See, kid? Your reflexes were more active that time." Geoff chuckled, putting his arm down. "It's funny, they only manage to learn once they get hit, always happens to the new trainees."

"How many trainees did you have?" I inquired.

Geoff stroked his short gray beard, "Including you kids?"

I nodded.

"Two."

I gave a befuddled look. "So we're the only—"

As unexpected as it could get, Geoff successfully landed a punch on my right cheek. Only this time I didn't fall to the ground like Riley. Blood came out as a result.

"Fuck..." I said in a daze. Slowly, I turned my head to face the large man, my eyes filled with a short burst of rage and a hint of annoyance. I looked over at Riley whose fists were clenched so tightly that her veins could almost pop up from the skin. She was at boiling point now, I gave her a look to tell her to calm down. She unwillingly complied, but her glare still remained.

"Let me guess," I said, sounding unaffected by the punch. "I didn't react fast enough?"  
Geoff nodded. "Just so you know, I don't take no pleasure at all whenever I hit one of you. It's a part of my training book, if you want to learn, you gotta do it my way."

I grabbed the towel from my shoulder and dabbed it on my slightly bleeding lip. I wiped the sweat on my forehead and smiled at him.  
"So, are we going to do this, or what?" I asked, referring to the newly commenced training.

Geoff returned the smile as he crossed his arms plainly. "We'll see how long the two of you can stand, now show me what you got."

* * *

**idk i didnt like this chapter it was ehhh  
It's pronounced Geoff as in "Jeff" btw :P**


	10. Devastation

**There is no author's note for this chapter.**

**Simply keep on reading.**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Ten: Devastation**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

* * *

Geoff had been training us for the past four days. He taught us how to block, how to attack with melee and how to evade. Marlene had instructed him to not give me a firearm until the time was right _(I still begged him to let me borrow his old one although with no success) _but as compensation he showed me how to steal a firearm from an enemy once they've been stunned. Riley had already learned these techniques but would join in on the training whenever we would spar.

It was a fun and effective way of passing time, and sure enough both of our bonds with Geoff had strengthened like the one we had with Winston. He showed less emotion but deep inside had the same heart as his. The sun eventually settled in and our training had ended for the day, we were directed back to our rooms as the stars started to glisten.

**x**

It was late at night. And I dreamed.

It was a whimsical one, I guess. I imagined this giant spaceship that'd carried all these infected from around the world, about to be dispersed into space, cleansing the Earth of the scum.

Sadly the dream'd ended as soon as I saw it liftoff. It was weird, because my dreams would usually end in a fashionable manner, rather than leaving me in a cliffhanger.

When I'd awoke, the ceiling greeted me with an inanimate smile using its cracks.

_Good afternoon,_ it might've said.

I smiled back.

As I turned to my right, there sat Riley on her own mattress. A flat pillow had been lain on her lap, she was staring at me intently.

Creepy intently.

I stared back.  
And made a face.

"Nice." she said.

"Is it a habit for you to look at girls like that when they sleep?"

"You were drooling,"

Alarmed, my fingers felt for the corners of my lips. Sure enough, some saliva had managed to dry up like a drought.

"That's interesting." I said. "You _watched_ me drool?"

"And snore." She was silent for a few more beats. "You woke me up."

"I don't even snore that loud."

"You do. It's weird. You do a lot of weird things when you're asleep."

"Like?"

"Like wearing a ponytail—when you're _sleeping_."

"Hey," I arched a brow. "You've got your bun."

"It's understandable, Ellie, you've seen me without it."

I attempted to remember the memory, it'd been a usual day in the school, and the elastic in her tie had broken. It caused her black locks to release and curl up, ending up frizzy and long and wild and rambunctious and pretty.

"It isn't as bad as you think, Riley."

"Thanks, but I prefer the bun." She moved her way to my mattress. "Actually, I don't think I remember the last time _you_ had your hair down."

I knew what she was doing.

I tried giving out a reason. "It gets in the way,"

"Right."

"Don't even try to take it off."

"Or what?"

_Or what?_

"What are you, twelve?"

"Maybe."

She moved closer.

"What are you—"

And _pulled_ off my ponytail.

My hair released and fell down on my shoulders, brushing past them and landing somewhere just below my collarbone. The bangs tickled my face, and I swept them off to the side with teenage, immature anger.

"You look nice," she said, ignoring my remark.

"Ass."

"No, seriously. You look nice."

"Really?"

"Yeah . . ."

...

" . . . for a horse."

That was it.

I tackled her.

There was a swarm of cuss words, a tangle of limbs, and suffocating laughter. We rolled about on the mattress, until it reached a point wherein my hand had positioned itself on Riley's tie for her bun.

She almost froze.

"Don't—"

But I did.  
I pulled her tie off.

It was like a wave of black. Beautiful strands that she thought of as horrid. It really wasn't, it just didn't suit that tomboyish attitude she had.

"You look more like a girl."

"That's sexist," and she swiped the tie from me. "I'd have that back, asshole."

We laughed, talking until the night evolved into its later stages. Our eyes grew weary, our voices transforming into hushed breaths.

At one point during our conversations, Riley had grown solemn and dour, a peculiar strangeness growing on her. She hadn't been like this before.

She spoke up.

"You think it's worth it?"

For a moment, I would have asked what she meant, until realizing that she'd been referring to our soon-to-be meetup with the Fireflies at the Capitol.

I looked at her, a different expression plastered on my face.

"Yeah,"

"Really?" She pursed her lips. "I don't feel like it is."

"Riley, I would've _died, _but I didn't. Words can't even express how grateful I am, and if whatever happened to me's the answer to stopping this damn infection from spreading, then yes. It's worth it."

She wasn't convinced. The aspiring, Firefly-washed spirit that I always saw inside of her had been replaced.

"Right. Saving _this _shitty world is worth it." she scoffed. "Do you even know where they're taking us? What if they'll do something to you? Run horrible tests on you, use you as their own lab rat?"

"Marlene wouldn't do tha—"

"She probably wouldn't," she said, "but she'll probably separate us. Again. I—"

"You're being delirious."

"I'm being _practical_."

I held her hands.

"Riley. We'll be fine, you need to stop worrying." I told her. "I'm sure Marlene knows what she's doing."

Her demeanor didn't change, she was still uneasy about the whole thing. I did my best as I tried to encourage her by slipping my fingers into her hands. She was still looking down, but as she lifted her head to meet my eyes, hers were filled with fear and concern.

Riley, the girl whom I would think of as courageous with her dazzling bravado and energetic attitude had fear in her eyes, something that was so rare and uncommon that it made me fret in my own shoes.

"I'm afraid . . . " Riley spoke up, her voice shaking.

...

"I'm afraid of losing you."

I said nothing.

I let my actions do its part.

A rush of adrenaline filled me as I felt my mind shut down, and allowed my heart to do what it wanted to assure her. The inches between us were closed and we kissed with a passion that burned brighter than the sun.

Riley hugged the lower part of our bodies closer and I stifled a moan from the contact. Shudders raced down my spine from the intensity of our kiss. Every worry seemed to fade away and were replaced with nothing but love.

Eventually we had stumbled on Riley's mattress and subconsciously sat together with our lips still in between. I caressed her cheeks in a corny way, escaping a giggle every now and then as Riley played with the strands of hair covering my face.

There were heavy breaths and soon I was out of breath. We broke away from each other, our hands were entwined as I gazed into her eyes, they were no longer with fear, but with happiness and hope.

I leaned into her, felt her body, her warmth.

Our warmth.

I smiled, kissed her cheek, and whispered into her ear.

Four words.

...

Four words that made everything seem alright.

"You won't lose me."

* * *

"So. Where are we going exactly?" I asked, it was late in the afternoon and we were welcomed with warm winds and orange skies. Geoff had taken us outside of the hideout so we could tour around the city, there were no soldiers in sight, something that seemed to be so rare in Boston.

"Just walkin' around. It's nice to take a stroll without the military sniffing your ass most of the time." He chuckled, stroking his short gray beard with one hand.

Riley had caught up with Geoff's fashion and wore her own beanie. Unlike Geoff's faded gray one, hers were dark blue and matched the black hoodie she had fitted. I on the other hand had wore a red shirt with a black thermal underneath. It wasn't too hot for any of us to complain and we were just outside the gates of the QZ after using a tunnel that we had previously gone through in the past.

"Now you two stay close, I can't afford getting you girls into trouble." He said sternly.

"Yeah, I think we can handle ourselves, old timer." Riley smirked confidently at him, Geoff shook his head as he sighed and trudged forward, casually enjoying the quiet environment around us.

We had come across an old record store. Riley hurried over to the entrance and we were greeted with toppled tables and chairs with rows of records at the sides. The dust that had filled our eyes quickly subsided and we split up in the store to look around.

"Well, this takes me to a trip down ol' memory lane." Geoff muttered as he flipped through some of the vinyls.

I walked over to him and watched him take a record out, he blew the dirt off the front and stared at the strange album cover, it was an aged photograph of four men crossing a road, the background had cars that were way different than the ones lined up in the roads today.

There was no text to indicate the band name, I looked up at Geoff expecting him to be in confusion but instead a broad smile was plastered across his face.

"Do you know the band?" I asked, his eyes darted to me, full of nostalgia and wonder.  
"Oh_, do I know the band._ My mother was always a huge fan of them, I guess her obsession passed on in the family."

Geoff handed the vinyl to me and I examined the cover better, he chuckled at my curiosity.

"Been a while since I've heard music like this, the things I'd do to turn back time..." he sighed.

"The picture's a little... grainy." I stated, flipping the cover to showcase the back part.

"Album's been released for a while now, you'd expect it to be like that."

I pouted, flipping the record to the other side "Man. Really wish we could play it."  
"Mhm." He sighed.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any tapes or cassettes for my Walkman in the store, the three of us left and began walking on the pavement again.

For today, it was fortunately windy. The newly-added layers to my usual outfit was really sweat-intensifying on my body, I grabbed a spare canteen from my bag and drank eagerly, Geoff looked over at Riley and started a conversation to pass the dull time.

"So, how'd you two end up here?"

She placed her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, biting her lip as she thought. "It's a long story. Basically, I took, uh... Ellie to this place. She got bitten. She panicked, I panicked, we were a pretty emotional mess. I insisted on waiting it out, but... she never turned. Once we realized it, we decided to head off on our own — Which, by the way, was pretty short-lived when you fuckers'd decided to ambush us." Riley exclaimed, sarcasm present.

Geoff's knit cap lowered as he lifted a brow, "Marlene mentioned that you were supposed to go with another group of Fireflies outside the city, but you ended up leavin'. I guess it's got somethin' to do with her." He nodded at me.

Riley faced me as she walked and I gave her a faint smile, she smirked back at me with affection in her eyes.  
"Yeah. It does." she replied softly.

Geoff understood and spoke no more.

..

After walking for about an hour, we were a couple meters away from an old steel bridge full of cars and buses that had a two hundred meter drop before reaching the waters below. Geoff hesitated as we walked further and called to us as soon as we were about to enter.

"Yeah, this is where we drop the line, like I said, I ain't riskin' on gettin' you two into trouble."

Riley scoffed and ran ahead. "Relax, there's nothing in that bridge. C'mon, Ellie." She beckoned for me, and like a small puppy, I tagged along. Geoff grumbled something about juvenile teenagers and unwillingly followed us.

God, Riley, we were so naive.

* * *

"Wow, look at all these cars." Riley said as she clambered to the top of a minivan.  
Geoff shook his head. "Yeah, beginnin' of the outbreak, thousands of people tried to leave the city, it only resulted in gettin' more Infected. The poor bastards."

"Were you from the city?" I asked.  
"Nah, was raised in the rural areas, back in Arizona."

"Damn, that's pretty far."

"Yeah, well, I _am_ pretty nomadic."

Riley was ahead of us and started to climb on the sides, she balanced herself on the rusted poles that supported the bridge and looked out over the river with a hand roofing her eyes.  
"Nice view!" she yelled from above.

Her stance was highly unsettling. I mean, what kind of fuckwit would think that scaling bridge supports were a good idea?

Yeah, she was one of those fuckwits.

My loud voice wavered. "Riley, I-...I don't think that's a smart idea."

"Quit foolin' around and get down from there, girl!" Geoff ordered, being just as worried as I was. Something was strangely unusual about this bridge, and I wasn't the only one who sensed it.

She sighed, her intuition seeming to fail her, thinking that the both of us were ultimate killjoys.  
She attempted to descend from the supports while clinging on with caution. "Alright, calm down, I'm heading dow—"

But something stopped her.

Something loud.

A large _boom_ rang out, our heads swiveled to the direction, and instinct took over.

"Shi— Get down!"

Geoff's large arm towered over my small frame, and he pushed me down to the ground with such force that I swore I could've broken a bone if I didn't stop myself from reaching contact with the cement.

"Jesus,"  
"Fuckin' hunters. We shoulda turned around." he cursed.

We lifted our heads a centimeter tall when we peeked over the car, just enough to acquire vision. There was only a half-second of seeing some sort of twang of light from a scope's mirror several yards away from us, whoever was holding the gun had hidden himself behind an overturned car as soon as the shot went out.

I checked for any injuries, if I was shot or not, and I asked for Geoff's well-being in the meantime. I was about to examine Riley, but the pieces had started to terrifyingly fit together.

Oh, shit.

Eyes-wide, I checked the car that we were hiding behind, my head moving dizzily left to right as I noticed that the girl with dark hair wasn't crouching down with us.

I remembered her last position, and my heart almost went in cardiac arrest.

The bridge supports.

I whipped my head to the left, where Riley was supposed to be at, still clinging to the supports like an ape.

The only difference was, was that she was wobbling backward towards the rapid waters below her, a large gunshot wound present on her shoulder.

Time froze.

Slowly, like she was being careful, Riley craned her neck toward her injured shoulder, a hand touching the cold blood. She stared at it, nonplussed by the sight. After two solid seconds, her head turned to me, and our eyes met.

Mine were aghast and frozen,  
Hers were dying.

She stared at me for a while longer, and fluttered her eyes to a rest, allowing sleep to welcome and engulf her as she started to fall off of the bridge and into the unforgiving river below.

She was like a piece of falling paper, crumbling slowly down to a whopping two-hundred meter drop that would soon lead her to her demise.

Later, I heard the faint crash of liquid thrashing and settling.

No.

No, no no, no.

_No!_

_"RILEY!"_

I got out of crouching position, somehow releasing Geoff's iron grip on me as he tried to restrain me from sprinting over the bridge's railing edge to look at the waters below.

My frantic eyes were screaming her name, my throat scratching and itching my insides.

I'm not sure on the amount of times that I had managed to shriek her name, but no matter how much I called for her, she didn't emerge out of the water.

Nothing cared.

In complete disbelief, I attempted to jump down and find Riley myself, but thankfully — Geoff was fast enough to stop me. During that time, I cursed and spewed at him, my arms flailing wildly in his grasp as he carried me away from the railing.

"Don't fucking leave her there!" I barked at him.  
"Ellie—"

_"RILEY!"_

More shouts joined in. From the other side. I gave away our position, but what fucks were there for me to give?

Geoff cursed again, with me trying to push his immutable body as I screamed again for the girl's name. There was another shot that cut the air, its reverb hitting off the bridge's sides like a pinball arcade.

"We have'ta move!" he reasoned with me, still trying desperately to keep me still as he held my berserk frame.  
"I'M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HER!"

It was useless. I was stubborn, Geoff's strength and size wasn't going to lose against my own. We were semi-wrestling each other, with me bent on staying to rescue Riley and him trying to move me and flee back to the Firefly base.

The hunters were closing in on us. More shouts, more soon-to-come gunshots. I kept yelling her name, hoping to whatever higher omniscient force there was that she was still alive.

Geoff paused, as if thinking of something. He turned to me with sullen eyes as I keep thrashing in his grip.

"I'm sorry."

Before I could rudely ask him to elaborate, a heavy blow greeted itself onto my head by the butt of a pistol, and blackness started swallowing me whole.

* * *

**-TWO HOURS LATER-**

...

...

_"...can't go back..."_

...

_"...Ri..ley..."_

_..._

My eyes shot up, the system in my body regaining its senses. There was a mattress below me, my head suddenly throbbing before I started to put it to good use.

I looked around, disorganized and pallid, I was in the same room that Riley and I had stayed in, her backpack still at the side of the room.

Riley.

The thought flew out of my mouth. "Riley,"

I sprawled on all fours, eyes racing the room, clinging onto a desperate hope that what happened earlier was just a fucked up little dream.

It had to be, right?  
Right? _Right?_

"The girl's dozin' off in the room, had to knock her out if she wouldn't comply."

"Shit, and the damage?"

My ears perked up, the sound came from outside the door. I walked cautiously to it, pressing my ear to the metallic slab.

"She's fine. But we got fucked by the damn bandits, west of Boston, in the bridge." Geoff replied.  
"What in Sam Hill were you doing there?" the man whom I assumed was Trevor scoffed indignantly. "You know that the military's not there sinc—"

"Since those fuckers lynched their team back in Pittsburgh, I know. The zone's been weak and the riots've started to get worse. They couldn't have scattered to Boston if they already established territory after the military left. That'll be another shittin' problem for us when we escort the kid to the Capitol—"

"But you got the goddamned Firefly-kid killed. Marlene _specifically _said that she was going to join the moving group en route to the Capitol. She's not going to like this."

There was a slight pause.

Geoff attempted to retaliate. "We don't know that she's gone, she could've—"

"Don't give me that damn euphemism, Sutherland. The girl's _dead_. If she isn't, then she will be."

His words batted me off, making me back away from the door incredulously. The room suddenly fell dark, and my heart dampened in spirit when I heard Geoff reluctantly reply back in confirmation. "Ellie... the poor kid."

...

...

_No, she can't be dead._ I thought. _She can't fucking do this to_ me.

_This isn't a dream, it's a goddamn nightmare._

With eyes watered, I slowly made my way back to the door, where the previous voices had suddenly disappeared. I opened it carefully, peering on both sides to find that both Trevor and Geoff had gone off to someplace else.

The sounds of pelting raindrops clouded the air, a mist-filled night present up high. I sneaked my way out of the room, the tunnel that led out of the base was just a two-minute run away from me.

With my backpack and flashlight, I was determined to find her.  
She couldn't be dead.

With the majority of the Fireflies indoors, hidden from the public, I snaked my way towards the tunnel with ease, my hair wet from the bothersome rain. When reaching the tunnel, I remembered Geoff's routes inside the twisting place, taking only a couple of minutes to head out on the other side.

"I'm getting you out of there, Riley."

The words that left Trevor's mouth made everything that was surrounding me inconsequential, she had to be alive. This was Riley, for God's sake. You couldn't just snuff out a flame as wild as hers.

It's ironic, really, now that I think about it, when I said that you couldn't take out a fire even though it had been raining seven hells that night.

My plan was far from logical, but I was unconvinced, stubborn a flame as Riley's. The rain kept pricking my shoulders, begging me to get back indoors. But I kept moving, to where the bridge was.

The night made all the buildings appear as silent silhouettes. Watching me. They pointed their signs and pickets to the direction of the bridge and I thanked them as I walked.

Each step gave me a memory of her, the girl. And each step was faster than the previous until I had been sprinting maniacally on the slippery floor just near the bridge. My heart raced, the buildings started to clap rhythmically, they even started to yell my name.

_Ellie! Ellie! Ellie!_

_Ellie!_

"Ellie!" This voice was fleshier than the ones before.

I whipped my head around, and there was another silhouette. But this one was in the figure of a woman's, her figure stern and alarmed.

"Ellie!" she called out again.

Marlene.

Two more figures emerged from her back, one of them being Geoff. And my face started to grow hard and stubborn.

I sprinted again. They pursued with flashlights and shouts.

The rain pressed on harder, like a roaring audience watching a marathon. I was the star runner, heading off to a non-existential finish line beyond the borders of Boston.

The bridge was close, too close for comfort, and as if fate had been waiting, the slippery floor halted my running.  
There was a slick slip, a brief moment of hanging in the air, and the taste of a rough texture when my face kissed the wet cement ground.

The three silhouettes caught up with me, hoisting me up with care.  
"Let go!" I yelled, squirming and dazed from the fall.

There were abundant voices coming from all of my sides, they were everywhere, they were intrusive, immaterial, _inconsequential_.

"God, you're drenched all over—"  
"Geoff, help me lift her up—"  
"Ellie, the hell were you thinking—"  
"The military could come here—"  
"It's too late—"

_Too late.  
_The squirming transformed to punching and kicking and crying and shouting. But the ones carrying me hadn't wavered.

Among all of those voices that were attempting to restrain me, mine had been the loudest of them all.

_"RILEY!"_ I shrieked her name infinitely as they carried me back, like a newborn baby, crying and wailing, over and over again.

Those cries were piercing itself into every dream, forcing my fantasies to wake up to a harsh and incomprehensible reality. And I howled one final time before passing out from exhaustion.

...

...

The exhaustion wasn't from my actions, but the realization of Riley's well-being had finally turned everything around me into an actual inconsequential void. I gave up on the world, and both our flames had been snuffed out.

She was dead.

* * *

**please don't kill me  
i love you all**


	11. In Loving Memory

**You guys asked for it, so here's chapter eleven!**

**Glad to know most of you aren't trying to kill me :)**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Eleven: In Loving Memory**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

_Riley is dead._

...

_Riley Abel _is_ dead._

The statement attempted to crawl its way into my mind.

I kicked it away, leaving it to keel and wither.

Shit.

_Just let me accept it._

I was trying.

I tried to make it register over and over and over again in my stubborn head that wouldn't seem to accept it no matter how hard my attempts were. It wouldn't work.

It would never.  
_Ever.  
_Work.

...

Today's nightmare was no different than yesterday's, because I'd been dragged out of it by the same hand that had been nudging my shoulder. The soft cushions below me absorbed the weight I'd offered it.

(The nightmare, of course, was about Riley).

"Ellie," the voice soothed, the nudge rocking slightly harder.

I groaned—the terrible kind—before rolling to the side to face the intruder. For a millisecond, the light that shone from the window made the figure above me appear like her, _the_ girl.

My pupils dilated, but it shrunk when the figure's appearance came to view.

Marlene.

"You must eat." she insisted, a plate of bread in her hands. She was bent down on one knee, staring back at my blinking and miserable eyes.

There was a slight pause, and I turned to face the wall again. "I'm not hungry."

"It's been two days."  
"You already gave me food last time,"  
"Barely half of which you ate."  
"I told you, I'm not—"

"Ellie." she pleaded, her composed voice faltered for a moment. "Please, you can't . . . do this to yourself."

...

I turned back to my former position, eyeing the woman and then the bread. Internally, my stomach begged to be satiated, and I couldn't help myself.

Grabbing the provision, I sat on my mattress and nibbled lightly.

Marlene breathed, a steady one, a faint smile present on her thinned lips. "Thank you."

The response she received was a weak cough, followed up with breadcrumbs rolling down from the bed.

That was it, basically. I was this devastated, anorexic child who was terribly coping with the sudden death of her best friend. I couldn't blame Marlene for trying, it pained her to have seen me like that—to have hushed me down as I continued to weep uncontrollably on my pillow during the first night, the first one without her.

"Riley wouldn't have wanted to see you like this." Marlene spoke up, the remark had rewarded her with a provoked glare.

And she still had the nerve to say her fucking name.

I choked the bread in my grasp, more crumbs falling and tickling my exposed feet as they hit and bounced off to the floor.

"She wouldn't have wanted to be left to _die_." I countered, the growl not as fierce as I had intended it to be, but it worked well enough to leave her gaping.

Marlene's thinned lips seemed to have folded another consecutive time, the jaw clench was visible.  
_  
_Yeah, we were going to cross that line. Because fuck you, Marlene, and because I was neither in a mental nor emotional state to cope with this bull.

She sighed, the plate she was gripping on to started to shake, but only so slightly. "We talked about this."

I tore a small piece out of the bread, popping one slowly in to my mouth. "You could have saved her."

"Ellie—"

"But you didn't," I continued, chewing turned to gnashing. "You left her there to _die_."

_Do not cry._ I told myself. _You can't cry in front of her. You can't._

Silence. Gnashing. Continuous silence. It repeated itself like a broken record.

I plopped the half-eaten bread on the plate before lying down once again, facing the peeling walls with my clandestine and watery eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

Silence again.

After five seconds or so, the shuffling of uneasy feet gave me a hunch that she had straightened up and approached the door, but just before closing it behind her, Marlene turned around.

"She couldn't be saved from the beginning."

Door shut.  
Silence ensued.

...

I tried to focus only on the wall, with its peeling, bumpy texture and mildly interesting paint color. It didn't work. All I could see was my own reflection of sorrow and remorse. A reflection of promises that had been broken. A reflection of a girl whom I once thought could have lived forever. Everything I had once believed was a lie. Everything was gone since she was gone, I couldn't accept it.

Because fuck you, world, you couldn't do this to me, not after all that shit you had put me through. You could not be that cruel.

What more did you fucking want from me?

And, on that moment, it was the only time that I had allowed the barrier in my eyes to break, my face scrunching as I closed them, allowing peeps of bittersweet drops to flow down my cheeks.

It was only for the wall to see.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

"Alright, new kid. Either you're too dumb to get the order in your peabrain head, or you just _badly_ need an ass beatin' to know your fucken' place."

It was the _lavishing,_ 15-delinquent-years-of-age boy, referring to the young, 13-year-old redhead as the _new kid. _Having a healthy dosage of threats all her life in the stringent Zones, the girl couldn't possibly care about these hooligans who were harassing her.

Though maybe these hooligans were an exception.

Ellie's strike of luck wasn't so abundant that day. She had just gotten out of the bus, a sergeant ordering them to line in rows of six, and then later to be given a droning speech that all new cadets would receive on their first day.

She just moved to the Boston Military Preparatory School, operated under the surveillance of the FEDRA. It was her second or third school in her small, thirteen-year life.

Afterwards, she went off, and they had followed her. The band of a boy and his crony whom were famous for fucking over freshies off the market. Ellie got the notion, and in an attempt, she tried to lose them as she walked briskly along the outside campuses of the school, only to have cornered herself in a wide dead end where the two young men had lugged just behind her.

The leader was obviously doing all the talk. His sidekick was latching onto his back like a rope. He would laugh when he laughed, obey when he commanded, so on, and so forth. The area was quite large, with other kids watching as useless bystanders, already foreshadowing that help wasn't coming anytime soon if things went south.

She raised a brow, not intimidated by the bravado. "Do you got any better things to do other than jacking off and picking on kids, shit-stain?" Her fists were clenched so tightly, the veins seemed to pop out from pressure.

The boy's beady eyes narrowed. "Watch your slut mouth, you little bitch." he threatened. "Just hand me the shit I want and _maybe_ I'll reconsider bashing your skull."

"Touch my stuff and you'll regret it."  
"That's cute, sweetie."

He grabbed her overcoat and dug his nails in, like talons. He stripped the jacket off of her and threw the clothing to the ground, a muffled clatter of the Walkman emancipated. Ellie didn't waver.

The boy searched for them, the crony just behind him as he watched. He found the gold spot, and retrieved the hidden Walkman from Ellie's inside pockets with a dirty smug on his face.

"What kind of shit music you listenin' to now, kid?" he cloyed, twirling her Walkman in the air as the boy behind him sniggered.

"Give it back. You've got three seconds." Ellie growled, her face starting to redden immensely.

The boy laughed, a large, piggy snicker that resulted into a twosome of cackles.

_One._

_Two.  
_  
..

_Three._

He wiped an imaginary tear out of his eye after the convulsion. "Kid, I'd like to see you try—"

And with a temper of feisty fire, she most certainly did.

The next action that Ellie would execute was one she had been storing ever since the duo of hooligans were starting to follow her. She delivered a sick punch to the bridge of the boy's nose, earning a spine-moving _crack_ and some blood to fly out from all directions.

"Son of a fuck!"

The bystander crowd whom were watching from afar were enticed.

Ellie couldn't wipe the triumphant smile out of her face, and when she attempted to bend down to pick her jacket and Walkman from the floor, the boy had delivered an upper punch to her jaw. Almost the same force as to what she gave to him.

There was blood, stars, and crash landings to the ground. The assault got her off-guard, her jaw started to numb and tingle simultaneously as she writhed on the cement.

_"Fuuuck,"_ the boy sneered, his fist wiping his pig nose. "You gotta be the dumbest new kid to ever step off that bus."  
He nodded over to his crony, "Pick that bitch up."

Cronies did what cronies were told to. Shame that they couldn't have their own sense of freedom. The sidekick boy lifted Ellie up by the armpits, positioning her in a headlock.

She scoffed, spitting some blood out. _Can't even fight without calling backup, you fucker._

"I warned you not to touch my stuff." she said flatly, glaring as cold as winter's cruelest, "But I would've pulled my punches if I knew how fragile you are."

She proclaimed it loud enough for the crowd surrounding them to hear, the boy looked around, mumbles and chortles were exchanged all throughout.

Yes, peers were quite influential when it came to those things—even in post-apocalyptic scenarios.

After being publicly scrutinized, the boy attempted to regain the crowd's intimidating impression of him, which—I'll tell you now, did not work well in the end.

Infuriated, he grabbed Ellie by the hoodie's collar, harshly releasing the headlock grip. A balled and heavy fist was above her, ready to strike.

"I'm going to take what I want _and _I'm gonna kick your scrawny ass!" he snapped.

"Fight me one on one, you _chickenshit!_"

"Keep it up, you little bitch!" The fist's movement was approaching her with fast speed, and the redhead closed her eyes in anticipation for her face's demise.

But the blow never arrived.

...

She peeked an eye open, and her look of tension was replaced with mild surprise as she found the boy wearing the same expression on his animal-like face.

"The fuck?" he struggled.

He budged for his arm to move, only to find a hand, restricting him from doing so.

Ellie's perplexed eyes started to race toward the hand, arm, and then to the arm's body that it was connected to. The figure was slightly shorter than the boy, whoever it was was wearing a faded crimson jacket and a hood over their head— like one of those anonymous vigilantes, or something.

The boy's eyes widened, "Abel." he observed, his voice flickering.

The figure lifted their head and smiled, a feminine face was revealed, making Ellie assume that it was indeed a girl.

"Let's make this fight a bit more fair." she said.

And with little effort, she threw him on the ground with a blinding force.

And as he went down, he was welcomed by a fleet of punches from the mysterious rage of the mysterious girl, yells and yaps were hogging out of the beaten boy's mouth, only to be trapped shut when the girl punched him again. Ellie could not believe her own amusement.

The crony, being the sidekick he was, approached the girl with an assaulting yell. She had heard this, evidently, and effortlessly dodged a punch before countering the other boy with a fair kick in the abdomen, he whirled his back to the ground, a tooth finding freedom out of his mouth.

The boy—the leader one—had struggled to get up on his feet while his assaulter was occupied, but he was too sluggish, for another wielding punch to the cheek sent him back to the ground, and he was set upon.

It was a little like this:

Imagine a square box, yeah?

Alright, now picture three people straight in the middle. One of them being Ellie, standing and gawking at the girl whom was sitting upon the boy that threatened to get her Walkman. Imagine small dots, probably five or eight, dispersed around the triad in no shape, those dots are the watching crowds, amused and entertained. The chaperon that the leader had brought along quickly ran off for his own sake. Maybe cronies _did_ have the freedom to choose.

The girl's hood was now off, due to the ruckus she had caused. Ellie examined that she had dark skin and dark hair tied to a bun, looking relatively fair during the early afternoon.

"I should stomp your fucking balls." she growled, making the boy whimper softly. The girl got off of him, allowing the bastard to sprint away, a tail tucked shamefully between his legs. The crowd laughed at the scene, and all had settled but the tension that arose between Ellie and her.

"What spectacular fuckwads!" the girl exclaimed, hands on her hips. "So, what'd they want?"

Ellie mopped the look of amazement on her face from the previous encounter, picking up her jacket from the floor and tucking her Walkman back in place.

"Something not theirs," she replied monotonously. "I had it covered."

"Yeah, I can see that."

...

The girl who was referred to previously as Abel examined Ellie from head to toe. _One of the new kids,_ she thought. _One more fresh face to be picked on by assholes._

She wanted to be the guider.

She placed her bloodied hands in the insides of her pockets casually. "Here's some advice," she offered, "have someone watch your back. Try and make some friends before—"

Ellie's head seared.

She glared at her. "Did I _ask_ for your advice?"

_This fucking kid. _Who was she to offer _her_ help? Surely, the last thing she wanted was a lecture. The rescuer's head had been slightly bloated, thinking that she herself was the savior and heroine of all.

Being jumped on her first day at another military school wasn't the ideal expectation, so, you could guess that it got poor Ellie on edge.

They both stared, a long scrutinizing one. Ellie attempted to utilize her 'awesome' telepathy skills to explain to the girl that she was independent on her own. It didn't seem to pull through, but she appeared to have got the message.

The girl chuckled, shaking her head before walking off. "You got some serious trust issues, new kid."

_Trust issues?_ the redhead scoffed internally. _More like common sense._

Though, before the mysterious Abel girl would dissipate from Ellie's vision, something had stopped her in her tracks. She proceeded to run back to the opposite direction, where the rest of the crowd were also surprisingly running off to.

She eyed Ellie one last time, a goofy grin plastered on her face that was accompanied with nervousness.

"One more piece of advice. Run."  
"What?" Ellie asked, bewildered and snappy. "Why?"

"You're just going to have to trust me!"

She bumped the redhead on the shoulder, hard, before speeding off again to where the previous bullies had ran off. Ellie tumbled slightly back, her feet shuffling around and finding balance.  
"Fucking hell," she said, eyeing the suddenly empty area. "What's up with this place?"

She figured it out shortly after.

Turning to her left, a shadow had loomed itself over her, tall and lean. Shoulders as broad as the the daylight, pupils with a shade of authority brown. Ellie spotted the nametag on his military denim shirt.

_Corporal Willis Evans._

Sir Evans had an unhealthy expression of nostalgia that influenced Ellie's memory to flash in her head. She remembered the previous school, with whose previous principal sported the same castigating glare. His square jaw moved by an inch, and his deep gravelly voice prickled at the upcoming winter air.

"My office. _Now_."

If there was one thing similar to all the schools Ellie had been to, it was the calls to the office to receive an earful of scolding.

* * *

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

The metal was starting to rust.

Holding your pendant in my hand, Riley, it felt... numb. I don't know what I had been feeling back then, but there was only numbness whenever I recalled touching it, seeing your name on it. _Riley Abel._

And then suddenly, you were everywhere. You were in every hole, seeping out of it with your memories, you were in every dream, nightmare or not. I dreamt about you the other night, Riley. Remember the first day we met? With you rescuing me from Fraser like the distressed damsel I was? I dreamt about that day like I had just picked it off of my cassette tape of memories.

You saved me.

I would've hated to admit that before, but you did.  
But I didn't save you from _this._

Sorry. I was blaming myself, wasn't I? You wouldn't have wanted to see me like this, like what Marlene'd said. I couldn't help it, I have this tendency to berate myself.

But yeah, holding your pendant, it was the backpack that you left behind in our room. Your stuff was still there, Riley. I guessed that it would be better if I kept them for you, to remind me of my own losses. _Our_ own losses.

I got our two punbooks, and that cool little _Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road_ thing that we read one night when you slept over at my dorm. Every once in a while, I would read them, and it kinda helped me these past two weeks, so, thanks for that.

God, the puns.  
Remember the carousel, Riley? I wish that could've never ended.

Your pendant was what stung the most. Every time I held it, even until now, there's just this...twang of numbness that stings when it shouldn't. Hurts when it's not supposed to. It reminds me of a lot of things, the kiss normally being the first. It gives me a heartfelt emotion that rings through the ears, don't think I've ever seen something being capable of doing shit like that.

But I held it for the first time after those two weeks, because I would've broken down hysterically if I tried earlier. There was blood on it, just small, tiny droplets stained onto the metal that wouldn't appear to rinse away. Your face, out of all things, was what I saw whenever I looked at the pendant, smiling—like the idiot you are.

Salty water droplets hit the base of the metal, and I wiped my eyes when I heard the soft rapping of the door behind me.

"Ellie," a muffled Geoff said on the other side. "You ready?"

Sucking in some needed air, I swiped my stuffy nose, drying my eyes when I realized that it was time. "Yeah."

I grabbed some of your stuff, Riley, putting them as a keepsake in my own backpack. I wasn't stealing them, more like protecting them all as a visible obsession. Standing up from the mattress, I walked over to the door, and turned back to see your backpack.

One final goodbye.

...

I exited out of the room, only to be greeted by a grim but faint-smiling Geoff.  
"So," he spoke up. "Today's the day."

I nodded slightly. "Today's the day."

Yeah, Riley, today was the day that I would leave for the Capitol.

Without you.

...

No, that wasn't true. I had you with me, in forms of materials and objects.  
I knew you were still with me, you had to be.

I looked up at Geoff, the mellow silence seeding in as morning's first break of light appeared on the horizon, courtesy of the view here in the Boston safehouse.

"Wish that you could come with us." I admitted to him, adjusting the strap on my pack.  
He let out an inaudible _Yeah_, nodding sullenly at the ground.

Geoff wouldn't come with me to the Capitol, or to any of the other escorts that would take me to whichever place was out in the west. Marlene explained to me a week before that another group of Fireflies would do the job, and she'd come along with me. As much as it was comforting for me to hear that, the fact that Geoff wouldn't tag along was saddening.

"Why can't you?" I had said the day after Marlene'd told me about it.

"You know I can't." he'd reasoned. "This is where I'm stationed at, we're a dyin' species here in Boston, and the group and I're here to sustain ourselves, reconstruct our base. We might follow up with you guys, but that's debatable."

It was unfair. Everything that'd happened so far in my life was fucking unfair.

I know, I had been a complete and utter dick to Geoff the early days of your passing, Riley. Anger was the first to simmer, depression wouldn't go away, even after several weeks. I'd grown soft on him, that Geoff, and I hoped that our final days together weren't ending on bad notes.

Which takes me to the current position. As both the man and I stood facing each other, I knew that it was my turn to say something.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole."  
A dry chuckle escaped his lips, his beanie falling back as he lifted his head. "S'alright, I know what you've been goin' through, kid. It ain't easy."

There was a pause.

"Look, I'm . . . I'm sorry about Riley."

The numbness again, it arrived and flourished my whole body.

"Yeah," I managed to say, head craned at the floor.  
"Ellie,"  
"I'll be fine—"

I was not.

"Look, child." he bent down, his hand lightly lifting my chin up. "Stiffen that upper lip. I want you to be strong in this, alright?"

My eyes were glassy and steamy when he lifted my chin up to meet him. "But it's hard,"

...

The barrier broke. Again.

Geoff allowed me to bury my head in his chest. "It's so fucking hard." I sniffed out once more.

"I know, I know it is."  
"This is fucking unfair," my muffled voice spoke. "She's supposed to be here, you're supposed to come. It's hard, Geoff. I can't cope with this any longer. I...I want to... give up."

Water collided with the fabric that I was resting upon. Geoff's jacket had advertised few of my tears, he pulled me away from him softly, his hands on my shoulders.

"Listen, girl," he said. "It'll be okay in the end, believe me. You struggle through, and you make it out. It'll be hard, but life's never been easy, yeah?"

I sniffed, then nodded.

"I need you to listen to me. Okay? Never give up, ya hear me? Life can be a goddamn struggle, but that ain't no reason to quit on it. You can't just tell yourself that you ain't able to do it, because you can."

Pause.

". . . Nothin' stops you, girl. It's only you that's capable of stoppin' yourself. Shit's pretty grim now, but it ain't the end of the world. It gets better, trust me. If you quit now, you'll never know what the future'll have in store for ya. Remember that, Ellie."

_..._

"I will."

...

_If you quit now, you'll never know what the future will have in store._

_..._

We exchanged goodbye hugs. Long and sorrowful. Marlene arrived later, her expression also bearing weariness. She asked for my go-ahead, and as I glanced back at Geoff, he was half-smiling.

The last look of farewell.

I waved back at him, both our eyes teary. Turning back to Marlene, I took a deep breath, before preparing to venture out to whatever was lying ahead.

...

"When people ask," Marlene said, we were walking now. "You _cannot_ tell them about your past. There's too much risk."

My past.

...

She wanted me to forget about you, Riley.  
But I knew that I couldn't.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

Sir Evans had successfully established himself on Ellie's shit list. Permanently rewarding him with the title of Corporal Dickhead for many years to come.

She'd been assigned to clean jeeps on the school's parking lot for punishment of rowdy behavior. And Ellie, being the conflicted child she was, had commented rudely about it.

"I'll fucking show you rowdy..." she muttered to no one, drenching the rag on the bucket and slapping it onto the bloodied jeep. "I should stomp your fucking balls."

She did this routine: drench rag, slap on jeep, clean unconditionally, and repeat.  
It happened so mechanically that the city ambiance wasn't enough to keep her at bay from boredom. And thus, she decided to labor with her trusty tunes.

She paused for a moment, walking up to her jacket that was sitting modestly on the floor. She reached for the pockets to pull out the Walkman, only to grab air which had seemingly replaced it.

"Where—?"

Frantic hands were finding and checking all possible pockets in her jacket, all of which that had the same fluff of air.  
_What in Sam Hill? Where is it?_

Ellie checked her backpack, which yielded nothing in return. Fret arrived in her bones like pins and needles.

Panicked, she started to theorize. When was the last time she had held it? She backtracked all the possible occurrences, it was impossible for the pig boy to have stolen it, and certainly, Corporal Dickhead had too much things on his hands to care about music. Which... which would only lead to...

"Oh, _no..._"

She remembered it. The goofy grin of that mysterious girl.  
The hard force that bumped her as she ran..!

...

"Oh my god."

She _took_ her Walkman!

_"SHE FUCKING STOLE IT."_

* * *

Half an hour later, the enraged redhead had decided to continue her search for the Walkman thief at the cafeteria. The usual place of meetups and food consumption.

The area was commonly crowded, kids of varied age groups here and there, there were even boys with growing beards of their own, one thing that Ellie was used to even in previous schools.

As she squeezed through the mess of chattering individuals, Ellie overheard a distant conversation that one of her ears had picked up.

"No way the Fireflies would do that." the familiar voice said.

_Aha,_ Ellie perked up. _Found you._

"Whole jeep got shot up, I heard three soldiers died."

She snaked her way toward their wooden table, four figures of people present while they discussed.

"They must've been provoked, or cornered." she argued.

A guy sitting across her sighed, "Careful now, you need to watch what you're saying. If anyone heard you-"  
But she interjected him. "And your skinny ass needs to stop believing everything they tell you in the classrooms. It's more complicated than**—**"

Ellie heard enough.

"Where is it?" she demanded, just out of the blue, immediately interrupting their conversation. Four alarmed teenagers turned their attention toward the girl, two boys, two girls. One of the girls was indeed the Walkman thief.

The girl scrutinized her for a long while, her sudden glare turned soft, and her eyebrows raised up in beguilement after analyzing who it was. She had a hard time figuring people out, interestingly.

"Hey, new kid!" she beamed, arching a brow. "How's your first day in _hell_ going?"  
Ignoring her antics, Ellie pressed on. "My Walkman. Give it to me."

She smiled with an absurd amount of smugness, "Golly, I'm offended. What makes you think I'd take anything of _yours?_"  
Her three friends chuckled in amusement, Ellie ignored them individually.

"I don't 'think'. I _know_ you took it." she said flatly, "You're a pretty lousy thief."

The girl crossed her arms, coping with the glare that Ellie was giving her. _I'd kill you in a heartbeat,_ she thought.

...

"Fine, new kid."

Relief washed over her when the girl had pulled out the Walkman out of her crimson jacket. The thing was still fortunately in the same condition as before. She tossed it over to her carelessly, almost making the redhead relinquish it from her grasp.

"Was planning on giving it to you earlier," the girl called out as Ellie walked away. "Turns out, you've got shit taste in music."

Her friends laughed accordingly.

Ellie wanted to spit on them all.  
_Those fucking assholes._

* * *

It was the ripe hour of nightfall, and Ellie had relocated herself in her new dorm.  
It was quite homey... in the... least describable way. Her wall was still bare with torn off paint, but the bunk bed that she had was comfortable anyway.

In these quiet moments, Ellie would think differently. She would try to recall her past, anything that she knew that would scavenge information to something she had no knowledge of. She didn't know her father, or her mother. Hell, she was only told that her mother had named her Ellie—with the surname of Williams—and that she died shortly after giving birth.

It's a shame, becoming an orphan as soon as you're welcomed into this world. This steaming, pile-of-clunk world. She would have fancied to know what it would be like to have a mother. A parent to guide her, caress her, take care of her...

Love her.

...

Realizing it now, Ellie had never felt that she'd been loved before.

...

It was silent, and the 13-year-old could only hear the sound of her beating heart.

..._thump_... _thump_...

_Thump... thump... thump_

_..._

_Wait a second._

That wasn't her heart.

Ellie stood up, curious as to where the sound was being emitted from. She donned on her jacket, pressing her ear onto the door of her dorm.

Exiting the room, she snaked toward the hallway, noticing the faint light at the end. Like an insect attracted to the light, she followed.  
And there, dear readers, just before the young redhead, stood the Walkman thief. Her back was turned to her, watching the darkness from the confinements of the military building.

Ellie did what was most appropriate and tapped her harshly on the shoulder.  
Needless to say, the girl was frightened, and Ellie regarded her facial expression as priceless.

"Jesus— New kid!" she whispered loudly. Though, it's not really considered a whisper anymore, is it?

Chuckling, Ellie crossed her arms. "Some advice. Get people to watch your back."

"Fuck's sake— go back to bed, new kid. I got better shit to do." she ordered, pointing to her dorm.  
"You're gonna show me how to sneak out of here—or_—_you're gonna show me how to sneak out of here. You can pick between the two."

"Oh, fuck off, new kid. You are unbelievable."

"We can argue until someone hears us and we get caught _or_ we can help each other." she said. "And stop calling me _new kid_. I have a name, you know."

...

The girl hesitated, her thoughts weighing on whether or not she should risk it. Surely, she couldn't do her plan on her own. She needed... she needed an alibi, a companion to assist her in the scheme.

Ellie seemed to be a likely candidate, and the girl gave out a flaunting smile that perplexed the redhead for a brief moment.

"Think you can keep up with me?" she asked, as if toying.  
Ellie smirked. "Not an issue."

The girls opened the double doors and were out of the building, the fall night breeze blew against them and the younger of the two shuddered upon contact.

"Don't make me regret this, _Ellie_." the girl said, winking.

The redhead was absolutely dumbfounded, her remark caught her off-guard.

"...How—?"

"C'mon," she cut her off, and guided the both of them to an iron fence that was about 15 feet high, they scaled it quite effortlessly, thanks to their rock climbing skills during their early youth in military training.

After they had climbed the wall, the younger of them asked the same question prior to the interruption.

"How do you know my name?"  
She shrugged. "I have my ways. You seem crazy enough to be interesting."

Ellie bit her lip, _I'll take that as a compliment._

The girl stuck out a hand at her as she clung to the fence with the other. "Name's Riley. You ready to do this, Ellie?"

She was going to ask what exactly _this_ was, but was caught up in the moment. Ellie eagerly shook her hand and smiled at her new acquaintance. Perhaps Boston would be quite the interesting experience for the two of them.

"Yup."

* * *

**If this chapter confused you let me just explain right here: The flashbacks take place when Ellie meets Riley for the first time. Basically it's just a switching of timelines, back and forth, back and forth. We'll probably have a semi-flashback story in the next chapter :)**

**Once again thank you for all the feedback, you people are wonderful. 'Til the next one!  
-Taco**


	12. Arisen

**Slightly reconstructed.**

* * *

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**Chapter Twelve: Arisen**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER****  
**

I could hear the rapid thrashings of the river, several and several and several feet away from me.

My lungs cooperated.  
I breathed in a shock of oxygen.

The unbearable headache that resided somewhere in my upper left temple was bothering me, the pain pressing like hot metal. It'd reached a point that I couldn't stand it any longer, and I groggily opened an eye as I brought up my hand to rub my throbbing forehead.

The pain made me remember, and I almost pinched myself to check if I was either dead or alive.

Ellie.

"Ellie,"

I got off of the grass. _Grass._ Why was I lying on grass?

However, doing so immediately made me fall back, since apparently, a sharp and immense pain had decided to stab itself through my left shoulder like how a rebar would.

The pain was brutal.

"_Agh_!" I hissed, grabbing it tightly. "Fuck,"

You know, getting shot twice in the same shoulder wasn't what I thought of as fair. My hand felt the soft texture of bandages. Strange, did I dress it myself? How?

I clenched my jaw, getting on my feet.

Once my eyes were relaxed enough to look around, there were trees and bushes and foliage surrounding me, a campfire sat straight in the middle of where I was standing.

What the heck?

Who made this camp?  
Where the hell was Ellie? Geoff?  
And where the _hell _was I?

"You, uh . . . you might wanna take it easy."

I whipped my head around almost instantly.  
The gun was already out of my pocket and sitting comfortably in my hands, aiming at whoever had the misfortune of talking.

Well, raising it with my _left_ arm was probably the worst idea. The bandaged shoulder hurt, grimacing as I switched the gun to the right.

There was a man—or should I say, boy—sitting on a felled tree on the opposite end. A long, black, zipped-up jacket was draped over him, tailored to his liking. He looked to be around my age, if not older.

A teenager? Nursing _me_ in the middle of the woods?

He had very prominent features, this included his long wavy brown hair that tickled his neck, and the disturbingly sharp blue eyes that seemed almost threatening. Despite those vicious eyes, the boy didn't seem hostile at all.

His face drowned in white.

"_Whoawhoawhoa_—" he spoke in a panic, standing up with both hands raised. "Calm down, I'm friendly, I'm friendly."

His blue eyes were nervously staring at the ground, his whole body seemed to be quivering in fear. I gave out an inaudible grunt of confusion, lowering the gun away from him.

"Sorry," I muttered, putting my pistol back in place. "It's a little habit that I do."

The boy depressed his arms and placed them inside the pockets of his dirty jeans, giving off a sigh of panicked relief. "Yeah, uh . . . thanks, for, you know, not killing me. For a second I thought you'd—yeah."

Unhappy with his awkwardness, he pressed his lips together. The boy gradually sat down on the log, peculiarly poking a stick at the fire. His eyebrows were scrunched together, as if he'd been mentally scolding himself. What a strange boy. His black jacket was glowing, embers from the fire illuminated his frame.

He seemed to be calm now, but it was apparent that we were both feeling uncomfortable. Especially now that I knew that Ellie or Geoff weren't anywhere around here.

Where the hell was _here_, anyway?

"_Oh_, ah. . ." he extended an hand toward me, the fire separating us. "Name's Leon."

Leon.

I raised a brow at him, as if a casual handshake was the most alienated thing I'd ever seen. What a strange boy, he was. A strange boy with strange eyes.

...

"Okay then. . ." he said quietly, retracting the hand back and placing it inside his pocket. The handshake rejection had created more awkward atmosphere around us, and I decided to break the ice.

"Mind explaining where the fuck I am?"

Leon's fidgety eyes darted to me, and then back to the ground. He bobbed his leg up and down repetitively.

"Ah, right, right." he mumbled. "We, uh . . . we found you by the rocks, on the side of the river outside Boston. Your, uh, shoulder"—he pointed at my said body part with the stick, it was bandaged—"was bleeding pretty badly."

They took off my hoodie. The white undershirt that I wore was revealed so they could dress my gunshot wound.  
Oh, right. Gunshot wound. The goddamned _shotgun_ that nicked me hard enough to make me fall off of the bridge.

"_We_?" I queried.

Leon nodded, "Yeah. My, my Dad, he used to be a . . . like, a doctor. You're pretty lucky for surviving that, could've bled to death."

_Lucky. _Pfft.

To be honest, I felt anything but lucky.

"So," he spoke again, anxiously, "mind if I, uh, ask what—what happened to you. . ?"

I shrugged. "Got shot off a bridge."

"Oh." he said. "Yikes."

Yikes, indeed.

"Yeah."

"What, were they hunters? Bandits?"  
I nodded plainly.

...

"Were you with anyone when you, ah, got shot?"

I stared absentminded at the campfire, the chirps of crickets filled the air, with the boy waiting patiently for my reply. All I could think about was what happened after the incident. The yells, the shots, the pain, the fall. Ellie could still be out there, looking for me. She could be out there with Geoff at this moment. Like, _right now._ Maybe I could catch up with her, maybe I could—

Snapping out of my trance, I stood up. I needed to find Ellie and Geoff, fast.

"I was. And if you don't mind, I need to catch up with them. If you can point me to the nearest route back to Boston that'd be apprecia—" But as I tried to move my shoulders, the pain went through again.

And man, it was fucking unbearable.

"Shit!"

Another moan of pain. Another tear-jerking feeling. Big mistake on my part, right there.

"Give me a fucking break." I seethed through clenched teeth.

Another voice could be heard,

"Leon?"

It was a male voice. Deeper.

We both turned our heads to the source. The foliage surrounded us, but eventually, a man had emerged out from the leaves, a short piece of rope was on his hand.

He didn't have much hair on his head, it was like all the hair from the scalp had escaped and transferred to his chin. There were circles under his eyes, eyes that shared the same strange blue like Leon's.

Oh, great. Another stranger. Now all I was waiting for was the third charm.  
The man's eyes darted over to me, and his worried expression quickly evolved into a surprised look.

"Ah, you're awake." he remarked. "I was wondering who was yelling back here. The morphine probably wore off of you. Might want to be careful moving that shoulder, don't want those sutures loosening up."

I glanced over at my bandaged shoulder. They _stitched_ this shit up for me? And they had _morphine?_  
Wow, and I thought there weren't any decent people in this world anymore.

"I see that you've met my boy," he spoke up, "that's Leon. And the name's Darius."

I grimaced, clutching my shoulder. "So I've heard."

Leon nodded his head as an acknowledgement, and returned to tending the fire. I paused, deciding whether or not to offer my name. Guess I had to, considering these two practically saved my ass.

"Riley." I said, teeth bared due to standing the pain.  
"Nice to meet you, Riley." Darius grinned.

Don't get me wrong, they were nice folks, but personally, I'm not the type to go ahead and greet every person that I stumble upon. I had time, _limited_ time. Ellie and Geoff were God knows where, and the area I was in was beyond my geographic knowledge. Considering the nighttime forest I was in, the place didn't even look remotely similar to Boston. Were these the forests in Lincoln?

I remembered eavesdropping a meeting that Marlene and some other Fireflies had a while back. But I'd been too busy being psyched because of my recent initiation to fully listen to her musings. I wished she would have showed me the relative locations around Boston, even the dumbest Firefly would know where to cross. All of them would, except for me.

So how the hell was I going to get back to Boston with these two gluing me to the ground?

Negotiating isn't my weakness, but it sure as hell isn't my asset, either.

Well, I guess there was a first time for everything.

"Look . . . I really appreciate the hospitality and all that, but I gotta get going. There's this . . . girl . . . in Boston that I have to catch up with, and it's kind of important." I explained. Hopefully, they wouldn't nose around, and I'd be released.

"Boston? Why?" Darius queried.

Well, shit.  
"It's just important." I replied in frustration. "In less than two weeks, we'll be—"

"Two weeks? You've got plenty of time."

_Jesus._

I scrunched my face in disapproval. "No, you don't understa—" But Darius brought up a hand to stop me.

"We need to strictly supervise your movement if you want that wound of yours to heal. You can rest for the two weeks, but we're not letting you go just yet. I still have to treat your injury."

My head started to simmer, steam seemingly coming out of my ears.

"And why the _fuck_ do you care about my well-being? You just met me." I shot back curtly, Leon visibly shifted at my snappy attitude.

"Would you rather head out with that condition of yours? Or are you actually going to be logical about this and rest? Like you said, two weeks is a pretty long time. Your shoulder wouldn't be fully mended by then, but you'd be healthy enough to get back to her."

I was silent, even though I hated the fact, the old timer was right.

"Also," he spoke up, "you said this friend of yours was in Boston? That's a two day walk from where we are."

I widened my eyes in disbelief. "The hell, where did you take me?"

"Dad and I were just leaving the Boston QZ. We kinda . . . uh, stole some horses so that we could travel faster, and we figured that if we went by the river, none of those soldiers would spot us escaping. Dad found you all washed up on the side, and then he placed you on his horse and we went off. You've been taken care of for, I think, two days." explained Leon.

It took a while to process, and my jaw started to drop. "I was unconscious for _two days_?"

Ellie? Geoff? Where were they now?

"Well, uh, one day, actually. But it's almost midnight, so, two." he said plainly, bringing up a pair of fingers.

Oh, no.  
This was bad.

Fuck.

How the hell was I supposed to know how Ellie was doing? Was she theorizing things already? It'd been two days, two days without me. God, maybe if I didn't jester around too much, this wouldn't have happened.

But it was too late, I had gotten myself into this mess, and I needed to get out.  
I just hoped that Ellie would still be in Boston by the time I would return.

Darius clapped his hands together, breaking the silence that I didn't notice. "Okay. I'll go get some food back out. Riley, please don't try and take off. I won't stop you, but you'll doom yourself, either way."

I groaned. "Hey, wait."

Darius' warm eyes looked at mine.

"Why'd you do it?" I furrowed my brows. "You could've just left me, but you didn't. Why?"

Both father and son exchanged glances before Darius could turn back to my direction.

"Well, the world may have gone to hell, but that doesn't mean our humanity's gone, either."

There was a silence, his lips curving up softly to carve a weak smile on his withered, sleepless face. He bade us a quick goodbye, traipsing through the messy plants and trees that clouded up our campsite.

Okay, maybe I was being a grouch back then. And maybe I should have been thankful that I wasn't dead at the moment when I should have.

I could hear Leon tapping his feet irritatingly against the rocks below him. Lifting my face away from my hands, I shot him a glare.

It took a while for him to notice, but his blue eyes traced their way to mine. "Something up?"  
"Would you stop that?"

"What, the tapping?"  
"Yeah," I replied. "It's fucking annoying."

..  
..

Leon continued to mash his shoes rhythmically against the large stones. I, being the grouch I am, was clearly not amused.

"Tap your feet again and you'll end up crippled."

He chuckled, still drumming the rocks maniacally, the awkwardness we had between each other was weathering away. "Are you this rude to every person you meet?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't feel too special."

* * *

**-JOEL-  
PRESENT DAY**

Echoes surrounded him, it crept into his ears like ghostly winds, he shuddered as each voice passed by him, mocking him, _taunting_ him.

"_...Dad...?"_

…

…

"_...Daddy..?"_

Joel opened his eyes abruptly, trying to find the source of the calls.

"Sarah?" he yelled out, a train of echoes followed shortly after. There was nothing but darkness around him.

He knew this, it was happening again. For the thousandth time in the thousandth month. His nightmares were relentless, each more vaguely unique than the last. One dream would be cluttered with detail, the other would be just as empty as this one, where only the cold voided ground touched his feet.

..

"_...Dad...!" _she shrieked in distress.

He quickly turned around and spotted her. Eyes widening as he found her feet planted firmly on the imaginary floor, blonde bob, pajamas donned on with infected blood, a military soldier just a few feet away from her.

His gun was pointed at her chest.

"Don't hurt her!" Joel barked, sprinting at the man.

But it was too late.

..

..

The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the invisible walls horrifically.

* * *

Joel gasped for air, he lifted his upper body from the bed, panting heavily.

The darkness in this room was natural— well, in a good way, at least. Late morning light had tried to sneak itself in through the covered window in the chamber, but to no avail. It didn't matter anyway, as there was enough light in the next connecting room.

He breathed out, a heavy, ragged sag of air that smelled of an urban menace. How many times would he have to cope with these visions? These nightmares? It'd been twenty years, for God's sake. Twenty years of reliving the ghastly experience, only in different and horrid ways.

Joel focused his mind, noticing that there was a faint banging on the door in the next room. He vaulted his legs off the springy bed, and plodded his way toward it, resting first upon the side of the doorway.

The banging ultimately grew more clearer as he adjusted his hearing, and soon enough, the impatient knocks had gotten under his skin.

Irritated, the burly man raised his voice. "I'm coming,"

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
****THREE HOURS LATER**

A bakery store, Riley.  
The hideout was in a goddamned bakery.

There could be a pun for this. Yes, puns would always brighten up the mood, wouldn't they? I searched the table of contents of the book for the _food_ category, doing so inevitably made my stomach growl.

My eyes browsed, and a particular line seemed to fit perfectly in the situation.

_What do bakers give their wives on special occasions? _The innocent line queried, followed up shortly by the answer.

..

_Flours._

_.._

I wish you were here to laugh with me.

It'd gotten pretty sullen, having to wait for Marlene to finish her errand. We left the Firefly hideout at the break of dawn, and it'd probably been around two hours since we arrived here.

The bakery was well-gifted with a layer of dust on just about everything. The counter, the shelves, the floor, even the drawers weren't spared. As of the moment, I've been doing rounds around the small bakery, earning my 75th lap as I stepped on the carpet that signified as a starting point.

Don't mean to brag or anything, but exercise is a key point in staying fit. That's my advice to you.

Before I could reach the hundredth, someone had opened the door to the back, stumbling forward as they fell. My eyes relatively identified the figure as Marlene, and before I could come and help her up, someone else had emerged from the doorway.

My feet froze to the ground.

It was a tall, grizzly man. He loomed over the woman on the ground, whom was writhing in agony, a hand covering the side of her stomach.

"Think you perceive someone as an enemy? Attack 'em anyway." Geoff's words had reminded me, from his training back at the hideout.

I nodded at the advice, grabbing my switchblade out of my pocket, I was prepared to assault.

"Get the _fuck_ away from her!"

"Hey, hey hey-"  
The blade was about to slash his arm, only if mine hadn't been stopped in the process.

Stupefied, I glared at the interrupter, her strong arm colliding against my struggling one. _Another assaulter._ She didn't seem so troubled with holding me in place.

"Let her go." Marlene ordered. The woman complied and I forcibly yanked my arm back, flummoxed at why she had decided to bring along a pair of strangers with her.

The man—the one with an intimidating look—had set his eyes on me, making me squirm a little on the inside. His expression bore confusion, turning his attention back at Marlene.

"You're recruitin' kind of young, aren't you?" His southern accent drawled.

She grunted, using the counter beside her as support to get on her feet.  
"She's not one of mine."

Now able to view her better, Marlene was nowhere near 'healthy'. Upon realizing that the side of her stomach that she'd been covering was drenched with blood, I felt my face growing pale.

"Shit," I hissed, walking over to her. "What happened?"

"Don't worry, this is fixable." Marlene replied, struggling through breaths. "I got us help."

...

Her eyes were set upon me, as if trying to find what words to say next.  
"But I can't come with you."

...

What?  
I think I heard that wrong.

I mean, she couldn't be serious.

...

Could she?

Ever since Riley was gone, I depended on Geoff and Marlene to bring me to the Capitol. Now, with neither coming along with me, how was I supposed to emotionally go through all this?

"Well, then I'm staying—"

"Ellie,"

...

"We won't get another shot at this."

I was being left alone again.

So this is what I get? Every single connection that I seemed to make with people whom I cared about would be cut off. Was this like a curse, or something? The people whom I knew and actually _liked_ were leaving me. Alone. Shipping me off with strangers whom didn't seem at all interested at me.

"Hey — we're smugglin' her?"

Marlene breathed deeply. "There's a crew of Fireflies that'll meet you at the Capitol Building."

"That's not exactly close." the woman chimed in.  
"You're capable." Her eyes narrowed. "You hand her off, come back, the weapons are yours. Double what Robert sold me."

"Speaking of which — where are they?" she skeptically countered back.  
"Back in our camp,"

The woman let out a half-chuckle, turning to the man. His arms were folded across his chest, shaking his head with a face that visually said that they weren't dealing with the kind of bullshit Marlene was offering.

"We're not smuggling shit until I see them." the woman said flatly.  
Marlene let out a sigh, "You'll follow me... You can verify the weapons, I can get patched up..."

She pointed a weak hand at me, shaking as it was lifted.  
"But she's not crossing to that part of town."

...

...

"I want Joel to watch over her."

Both I and Joel's voice had overlapped each other, ironically, we both didn't seem to agree with her.

"Whoa whoa whoa, I don't think that's the best idea—"  
"Bullshit, I'm not going with him!—"

"Ellie." insisted Marlene.

I glared at her incredulously, I didn't need another stranger shoved into my life. What next? Was he going to shrug me off, too?

"How do you know them?"

"I was close with his brother, Tommy. Said that if I was ever in a jam, I could rely on him."

"Was it before or after he left your little militia group?"  
"He left you, too." Marlene shot back. "He was a good man."

...

The woman seemed to be weighing the offers, they seemed desperate enough. Whatever guns Marlene'd owed them, they wanted it bad.

"Look, just take her to the north tunnel and wait for me there." the lady said, anticipating Joel's groan of frustration.  
"Jesus Christ..."

"She's just cargo, Joel."

Was she trying to provoke me?  
I felt utterly offended, mind you. Because as someone who'd been through shit, _cargo_ would not be a word that I'd appreciate.

Turning to Marlene, I tried my best to persuade her that whatever she was doing was a terrible idea.

But she seemed immovable. Fuck.

"No more talking. You'll be fine." she assured me, straightening up and nodding back at Joel, "Now, go with him."

Joel shifted his gaze to the woman, her eyes sporting a similar color.

"Don't take long," he reminded her, her lips had thinned by the remark.

Then, he moved his pupils onto me.  
A hazel shade. Cold and fierce. Unfeeling. The kind that made you want to tear away from them.

"You, girl. Stay close."  
Mentally groaning, I walked over to the entrance doors, giving one last glance at Marlene as we left the bakery.

...

_You're leaving me, too._

* * *

**Riley's back and I'm just literally freaking out because SHES ALIVE**


	13. Doctor's Appointment

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, all you folks! I'm back with Chapter Thirteen.  
Please, do enjoy.**

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**Chapter Thirteen: Doctor's Appointment**

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**-FLASHBACK-**

Shortly after getting over the fence and landing on the canopy, the two girls ran over to a nearby building. There was a ladder that Riley and Ellie would later climb, and when they arrived on the building's roof, they started to hop from one building to another. The gap was short enough for adolescent legs to cross.

Almost out of breath, the redhead was baffled. Somewhat amazed at Riley's agility and endurance at running. She was well ahead of her, and Ellie hated to show any signs of visible weakness.

Riley looked back as she sprinted, hopping over to a building's roof and turning back to face the younger girl.

"Chop chop, Ellie!"

Goaded, she picked up her pace and caught up with the older girl, they both skidded to a stop as they faced at what seemed to be the top of a mall. Exhausted, Ellie bent down forward, resting her hands on her knees as she breathed in the air she needed.

"That. . . all. . . you got. . ?" she panted.

Riley didn't even appear to have broken a sweat. She looked over at the view of the dystopian city as they both stood on the roof. The crumbling buildings, the distant smoke rings near the horizon, a faint gunshot fire here and there, they both hated the sight of the city.

Everyone did.

"You ever think about the future?" she asked, eyes still on the horizon.

Ellie—who was still huffing and puffing—looked up at her. "Like the far future . . . with spaceships and stuff?"

"Cute." Riley rolled her eyes. "I mean _your_ future. What you're gonna do with _your_ life."

Ellie straightened up, thinking for a moment; now that she mentioned it, she never really knew what fate had in store for her. Depressingly, living within the confinements of a FEDRA Quarantine Zone would give you two futures. One, you would either end up as a soldier, or two, you'd end up with the general population. Working extra, regretful hours just earning rations that were barely enough to scrape by.

Both futures seemed very unappealing to her.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "Not much to think about, really."

"That's what they'd like us to believe." she replied. "Do as you're told, shut your mouth, and when you're sixteen, they put a gun in your hand and turn you into a good little soldier." Riley scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm not spending the rest of my life with some _asshole_ telling me who to shoot and where to shit."

Her words had lingered in the younger girl's head, smirking a little from the thought of rebellion.  
"Well, what're you gonna do?" she asked.

"In less than three months, I turn sixteen,"

_Oh, _Ellie thought._ So she's two years older than me._

"That's how long I have to find a way out." Riley concluded.

"What else _is_ there?" she said, turning to her. The world, the one outside the walls, they were a mystery to the both of them. Surely, she wouldn't want to risk the chance of permanently losing safety, could she?

But, Ellie couldn't help but contemplate on her own question. _What _is _out there? _she thought.

Outside the walls? Was it just a barren wasteland of what the world had once been? Were there smokey mountains and piles of rubble? Or were there beautiful scenes that Ellie had seen in one of her picture books, places such as a lustrous green plain or a forest full of birds?

There was a silence, and it bugged the redhead since Riley hadn't answered her question. After a while, the older girl finally spoke up, prepping herself to jump off to the roof of the mall below them.

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" she asked.

Confused, Ellie tilted her head at the sudden change of subject. "What? No."

Riley flashed a crooked smile and hopped off the building, she landed promptly on the floor, running over to the mall's open ceiling.

"Follow me," she called out.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

"So, how's your shoulder feeling?" Darius inquired.  
"Pretty good."

We were on our horses now. The both of them had offered to bring me halfway on horseback, I greatly appreciated their hospitality. To be honest, I wouldn't probably make it in time if I walked with this condition.

Darius was on his own steed, while I had been sitting on Leon's, being careful to not be too grabby with him considering the position I was in. The saddle made it pretty uncomfortable for me to sit down on from the back.

Okay, a _whole_ _lot_ uncomfortable.

The sun slowly rose up from the ground, with the summer breeze replacing the cool night air. It'd been two weeks, and in a few hours from now, we would reach Boston. I spent my share of those days healing up, arguing with Leon and overthinking about Ellie.

_She probably thinks that I'm dead.  
__Is she handling it pretty well?  
__Oh man, I can't imagine what she's going through right now.  
__I miss her.  
__I promised her I wouldn't leave. I broke it.  
__Fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck._

Those kinds of thoughts had frequently entered in my head, I was too committed to Ellie.

Wait, committed was too light of a word.  
How about 'obsessed'?

Yeah, I was too obsessed with her.  
But she could handle herself, right? Of course she could. She'd been doing it for years.

During my stay with them, I've learned that Darius had had Leon back in Delaware three years after the infection outbreak. His mother had died shortly after giving birth, the same fate that also fell upon Ellie's mom. I couldn't help but feel a little impressed for the two as they survived through the hardships for seventeen years while still having a little morality in them left.

"You sure have been quiet today." Leon broke the silence. Darius was a few good feet away from us, so he couldn't be able to hear our conversation.

"I'm surprised that it matters to you." I replied plainly, viewing the nature around us.

He sighed, "Well, Riley. This _is_ the final day that I'll ever see your sorry face."

"Thank God."

"I'll be honest with you, I kind of enjoyed those two weeks. Even if, you know, you were a narcissist."

"I am not a narcissist."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Sure, whatever floats your boat."

As you can see, we'd gotten a little close since you had last seen us.  
Don't get me wrong, Leon was a pretty cool guy. Our personalities clashed a lot, but it helped coping with the waiting and with my impatience. Internally, it saddened me a little, knowing that this would probably be the last time I'd see him.

We stayed quiet for the most part of the trip, with Leon constantly squirming on the saddle and mumbling about how hot it was, while Darius was droning on about his life before the infection. The small talk helped lift up my spirits, and there was this. . . this amazing view of the rising sun just heading up above us.

It reminded me of her.

Her.

...

Almost there, Ellie.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

They climbed down the mall from the open roof, Ellie being careful not to stab herself with the broken glass she had landed on. Once she had realized that she could've almost punctured her feet, she let out a squeal, and Riley piped her down with an irate expression.

The poor girl, she never really did such stunts such as entering prohibited areas. Malls were such a maze, and Ellie couldn't risk the fact that there could indeed be Infected lurking around the halls.

But somehow, she felt secure with Riley. It comforted her, but she kept it to herself. She didn't want the older girl to shoot her looks, that would be the last thing on her list.

As they ventured inside, Ellie studied how peculiar the mall was. She saw mannequins, propped up in foreign postures (Ellie found it silly and imitated a mannequin before being castigated by Riley), posters of stores advertising cosmetics, and all those ridiculous products that were rendered useless today. It surprised Ellie, knowing that people bought such strange things.

But something caught her eye, the bold words _Raja's Arcade_ stood out from all the other stores on the floor. Her eyes lit up, gawking at the broken-down arcade center.

"Riley, hold up." she said.

Something sparked within her.  
Something big and large and related to childhood excitement.

Her feet gave flight, and she zoomed inside.

The store had several game titles lined up everywhere. There were Claw Machines, ice hockey stands, outdated arcade games, racing games, shooting games, it was all too much for the girl, and she practically squealed in delight.

She set her eyes upon an arcade game, the side design featuring three, angry-looking pigeons and explosive text.

_Oh._

Her twinkling green eyes raced toward the text imprinted on the side.

...

Triple Phoenix.

...

"No fucking way." Ellie exclaimed, heading to the system.

The screen was cracked, but she obviously didn't care. Ellie tapped on the buttons repetitively, imagining herself playing the game.

"Triple Phoenix!" she exclaimed. She felt the inner-nerd coming out. "I read about this game! It's this, uh, this super popular three-player brawler. It's based on a cartoon and comic about these three pigeons that _mutated_ when—"

Riley mocked her taste. "_Triple Phoenix?_ That game is for _children_."

Ooh, that hit her. Right in the childhood.

Ellie turned around, her elitist pride for the game was unduly damaged. "Yeah?" she replied back, "Well, you're stupid."

Ignoring the insult, Riley walked over to a dusty arcade system, it bore the words _The Turning_ with a dark and bloody font. The side had a picture of a girl that looked similar to Riley, only this time with braided hair and an extremely bushy ponytail. Her hands were wrapped with what seemed like blades. Making it appear that she had razor sharp claws coming out of her knuckles.

"You wanna talk games? _This_ is a real game." Riley beamed, basking in its glory. "Hardcore one-on-one fighter with hundreds of combos and this _insane_ boss fight!"

Ellie raised a brow, not entirely convinced. She still thought Triple Phoenix was better. Of course.

"There's this character called Angel Knives. She's got this finishing move where she punches a hole through her enemy's chest, then kicks his head clean off!" she explained, amused at the redhead's appalled reaction. "Who'd fuck with her, right?"

Ellie imagined it, the gory scene, the thought of just playing the games enticed her mind. She'd never played a video game before, not even a handheld console. It was too much of a luxury for even the richest of post-apocalypse kids to have.

"Man. . . kids back then were so fucking lucky." she said, jealousy present.

...

Riley paused, letting out a breath.  
"C'mon, we're wasting time." she said, turning around to leave the arcade. Ellie lingered briefly, before following up with the older girl. As she was about to descend the escalator where Riley was heading off to, she took one last look at the entrance of the arcade.

She closed her eyes, imagining what it was like two decades ago.

She saw light, music, and children of varied ages coming in and out of the store. She could see a boy dancing on what seemed to be a simulator, a group of kids bashing on a coin machine to try and glitch some cash out, there were two girls playing ice hockey, and a man holding up his four-year-old boy high enough so that he could shoot a hoop in a basketball game.

But most of all, there was life.

She smiled at herself, and reluctantly opened her eyes again.

The arcade was dark and empty, now.

Toppled systems, broken glass, stained blood on the floors and walls... the infection, it was coming for them.  
But they'd been too late. It was too late to save anyone now.

Too late.

...

Ellie's trance had been broken when Riley started to call her name.

...

They went down a broken escalator and found themselves standing before a tent, the faint smell of whiskey lingered in the area, Ellie's nose scrunched in disapproval.

"What're we doing here?" she asked.  
"You'll see."

Riley then took a step forward and placed her hands on her hips. "You in there, old man?" she shouted.

And as if it'd worked, a man probably in his early 40s emerged from the tent. He wore a sheepskin Russian fur hat that covered his ears snugly with its flaps. His long, navy trench coat hanged right below his knees. He had a beard that was begging to be shaved, and his age certainly didn't match with how he looked. The appearance was unusual for a military soldier.

"Stop yellin', I ain't deaf." the man said gruffly in a southern and western mix.

His light brown eyes darted over to the smaller girl beside her, his brows scrunched together upon scrutinizing.

"Who's this?" he inquired, pointing a finger at Ellie. "Goddammit, Riley. Every time you bring another kid here, you risk gettin' me in trouble."

Ellie had a miffed look, _she brought in other people, too?_

"Relax. She's cool." Riley said, turning to the redhead.

"Ellie, this _charming_ individual here is Winston. Winston, this is Ellie."  
"Hey," she greeted humbly, waving a hand at him.

Winston grumbled and sat cross-legged on the floor. The girl decided that it was as close to a 'Hi' as it could get.

"You at least bring me a little somethin'?" he queried.

Riley flashed a smile, promptly taking out a bottle of scotch from the inside of her jacket. "_Voila!_ Courtesy of head asshole of the school. I'm sure he meant to give it to you eventually, for all your hard work protecting this shithole." she chuckled.

Riley Abel's ever-expanding pockets, ladies and gentlemen. It was a wonder on how she brought the liquor in without it breaking, to be honest.

She handed the bottle to Winston, who took it willingly, squinting his eyes to read the label.

"_Gleffendich Solera reserve fifteen-year single malt, all the way from Scotland..._" he read aloud. Winston laughed lightly and took the cork out.

"Fuck the Infected for all time for robbin' me of such wonderful things."

He took a whiff of the scent, before drinking the liquor generously. Ellie gave a bewildered look, she never really got the thing with adults and their alcoholic pleasures.

After painstakingly gulping down a quarter of the bottle, the soldier looked up at the two staring girls.

"All right, Riley. What is this gonna cost me?"

Riley took a step back, clutching her chest. "Why, I'm _insulted!_ I can't just bring an old friend a gift out of the goodness of my heart?" she whined, acting hurt.

He rolled his eyes. "No. Not you."

"I want you to teach little Ellie here how to ride, she's never been on a horse before."

Ellie shot her a look. _Little?_

"That it?" Winston got up, his tall frame looming over the both of them. "Well, you know where to find the old girl."

Afterwards, Riley led her to another room not too far from Winston's camp. Ellie hesitated to come any closer as she spotted the shadow of what seemed to be a horse in the corner of the room, it was heartily chewing on one of the hay bales.

Riley pointed a finger at the animal. "That there is Princess."

_"Princess?"_ she chuckled.  
"Please, like 'Ellie' is any better."

The older of the two walked over to the horse and grabbed the reins. "C'mere." she hollered at the redhead.

She reluctantly complied as Riley handed her the reins. "Here — hold her for a sec. Don't worry, she won't bite."

Ellie's shaking green eyes moved to the black ones of the mare. She'd never been this close to a horse, but it didn't stop her from trying to overcome such childish fear. She held up a hand, attempting to pet her lightly on the nose.

The horse tensed at first, halting her hay nibbling.

"It's alright... I'm not gonna hurt you." Ellie cooed, opening herself up to my newly-made friend. Princess' ears moved to a resting position, and the tension in her bones were no longer present upon hearing the girl's assuring voice.

Riley returned from the shack, a saddle in her hands.

"Okay. He'll walk you through the basics, just remember to stay calm. If you tense up, she'll tense up." she said, hoisting the saddle on the horse's back.

"You know, she smells kinda nice." Ellie smiled, scratching the back of Princess' ears.

"Of course she does, she's not like the livestock that we have at school. Horses have an aroma, it's cows and pigs that stink."

Riley handed her the lead. "Oh, and, Winston is lazy. Don't let him cut your ride short. Make sure he takes you at least two times around the whole mall."

Ellie was perplexed.  
Why on earth was she doing this for her? Letting a soldier give her horseback rides?

Was this going to benefit anything?  
Suddenly, Riley's words had clicked in her head.

_That's how long I have to find a way out._

_A way out to what? _Ellie thought. _What was the whole point of her bringing me to the mall?_ There must be a reason behind it, why she sneaked out, why she brought her here. Ellie was dying to know.

"Are you trying to get kicked out?" she blurted out, making Riley freeze abruptly.

...

"Break enough rules and they toss you with the general population." the girl continued, "Is that what you're gonna do?"

...

Riley fixed the saddle again, rubbing her hands together, contemplating.

...

"No, that's not the answer." she replied softly.

"Those people get assigned some shitty job for the city and they barely get enough rations to scrape by." Riley shook her head. "You still end up a _slave_ to the system."

The two girls were quiet, leading Princess back to the camp. They hadn't spoken, and after what appeared to be the longest time, Riley took a deep breath.

"Just. . . enjoy this ride. Okay?"

Ellie nodded slightly, stroking Princess' mane.

"Okay."

* * *

**-RILEY-  
FIVE HOURS LATER  
**

It was probably noon when we finally reached the destination, and I yawned loudly from my lack of sleep, turning sideways as the horses skidded to a stop.

"Well, kid. Here we are." Darius exclaimed heavily.

I dismounted off of Leon's horse, staring at the bloodied sign that was planted on the ground.

_BOSTON CITY — 3 MILES AHEAD_

Something in my digestive system lurched.

It had most likely been due to the fact that I had nothing but a 9mm pistol, few supplies, and three cans of beans inside my knapsack. Looking behind me, I found Leon with his head low, not bothering to give one last look at me before I would go off.

Kind of sad, don't you think?

"Erm, thanks." I shifted awkwardly. Having no idea on how I was going to sneak in the QZ without being caught, I remembered the tunnel route that led to the hideout, but it was on the other side of the zone, where the bridge was.

I took a deep breath.

_You can do this, Riley. You're gonna find a way in, and you'll reach Ellie in no time, you got this.  
Okay? Okay. _

Broadening my shoulders, I looked up and nodded at Darius, whom was sitting—as if righteously—on his stallion. "Well. See you around, I guess. Um,"

I obviously wasn't the best with saying heartbreaking goodbyes._  
_

"Good luck." he called out.

And I guess, neither did he.

Leon lifted his head, staring at me, giving out one last heavy sigh before the both of them turned their horses around. I did the same, not bothering to look back.

...

Well, that is until I heard a gunshot.

And this wasn't your average gunshot, no sir.  
This one came from a double barrel shotgun. It rumbled both the air and ground, sending me astray and disorientated.

I looked back to the source of sound, finding Darius' horse crying out as it stumbled onto the rocky ground. Leon immediately got off his colt and rushed over to him. Whomever laid out the shot had gotten Darius' steed down.

My feet were frozen to the ground.

"Dad!" he yelped, lifting up his father with one arm. "Get up, get up, get up!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Darius jabbered, grimacing as he got back on his feet. Realizing how vulnerable I was out in the open, I hurried over to a large tree and hid there momentarily. I dared myself to take a peek, a group of three men emerged from the shadowy foliage, each of them with a loaded gun on their hands. Leon's horse stood up on its hind legs, whinnied, and ran off to God-knows-where.

"Nice to see you again, eh, doc?" He grinned, flashing teeth that did not like they'd been brushed in weeks. "You know, you made it pretty easy for us to track you down." He gestured to the horse tracks on the path. His outfit was predictable, it was a hunter — and most likely the leader.

"The deal is off." Darius snarled, pronouncing each world slowly. I glanced over at Leon and found himself quivering in fright, not bothering to set up a courageous bravado for the hunters. It was amusing.

Knowing that I was impolitely making of fun of him, I mentally kicked myself for being a dick and continued on watching.

"We need the meds, doc. Just hand them over and there ain't gonna be no trouble." The leader gripped his gun tightly. "Unless, of course, you'd like someone to get hurt."

Leon visibly squirmed.

Darius furrowed his brows, shielding his son in defense.  
"Gavin, if you lay a finger on my boy—"

He cut him off, "Rather not, man. But if you ain't givin' it up sooner or later . . ."  
The other two men aimed both of their rifles at Leon,  
". . .then I'm afraid that I'll have to change my mind."

Leon gulped, shoving away his father's arm. "No, dad. . . it's. . . it's okay." he squeaked.

Gavin laughed. "Ah, so your boy here's a tough one, huh?" "That's funny. You're all funny and miserable."

He glared at Darius, flashing another grin.  
But it was more menacing, more intimidating.

_Bloodshed_ was scrawled all over his lips.

"Ah, right. The _meds._"

"I don't have them." Darius spat back angrily.

"Bullshit."  
"I'm not giving it to you, either way."

Gavin sighed and walked towards him. "You know, doc. I don't wanna do this, really, I don't. But you're givin' me no choice." He grabbed a wooden bat from his bag and swung it on Darius' back, hard.

I looked away, the clear sound of a _crack _could be heard even from a far distance.

_"No!"_ Leon screamed, trying to cover his father. But the two hunters grabbed him from behind, restricting from doing anything else. Darius yelled in agony and crumpled painfully to the ground.

"I ain't gonna kill you, of course, I mean, you _know_ where the meds are." Gavin smirked and turned to Leon "But sadly, your son here ain't got much of a good chance of survivin'."

"Do _not_ touch my boy!" Darius yelled, voice still not wavering.

"It all depends on you, doc." Gavin replied, "Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time."

He stepped on his back, grabbing a good handful of his hair and yanking it up. I felt my hands bleeding from how deep my nails had dug into them.

"Where's your sick lil' stash of medicine hidin' in, you fucker?"

Darius paused, finally speaking up.

"Cam..Cambridge.. you cross the Longfellow Bridge...it's there... I promise.. just don't.. don't hurt him..." he whimpered. _Longfellow bridge, _I remembered. It was where I got shot off, down into the Charles River. Were these guys the same hunters that ambushed us?

Gavin smiled, "See, now was that so hard?" he turned to the two men and nodded, aiming his rifle at Leon.

_"Dad!"_ he cried out, trying as hard as he could to break free, it was useless.

"You said you wouldn't!" Darius yelled, trying to get up. Gavin delivered a sharp blow using his rifle butt and he was on the floor again.

"I didn't say anythin' about not hurtin' the boy, doc." he chuckled.  
_These guys were so fucked up.  
_He lifted his rifle and aimed for Leon's head.

_"DON'T! PLEASE!"_

I couldn't take it anymore, I got out of hiding and pulled my pistol out, aiming at his forehead.

"Hey, asswipe!" I yelled at Gavin. And just according to the plan that I've crafted exactly 2 seconds ago, he spun to my direction. The look of intimidation on his face was quickly replaced with sudden fear for a split second.

I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen to be released soon, thanks for reading! You guys are amazing =D  
****-Taco**


	14. Blackout

**Author's Note:  
As I have said countless times, I want to thank you all for your support.  
I've never expected that we'd go this far already in the story, and I couldn't have done it without you people!**

**Writing this story has been an amazing experience for me, especially for my first one. But enough of my blabbering, I hope you enjoy as always :)**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Fourteen: Blackout**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**BANG**

There was a fountain of blood drizzling over all directions. It slathered on Darius, on Leon, and on the hunters. It was enough to make my head swirl and sufficient to make Leon nauseous. My finger that pressed the trigger grew cold, my eyes were shaking, watching as the corpse of Gavin laid prostrate on the ground. His head was boring a grizzly bullet hole and gangly flesh, like chipped off wood.

I stopped the urge to vomit.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck!" exclaimed one of the hunters, releasing his grip on Leon and rushing over to the felled man.

Both father and son were stunned, with the former staggering up on his feet with fragile knees. The remaining hunter had restrained Leon still, his eyes racing around in search for the gunshot source.

I was too slow to react, for he found me. Right there, a few yards away, was me, Riley Abel, slightly hidden against a tree.

"That little bitch," he growled. "Hey, she's over there!"

Instantly, all four of them had their pair of eyes glued on me. I felt like a helpless animal caught confined within a cage, unable to escape. The hunter who had went over to Gavin's body retracted a gun from his pocket, aiming it to the location of what appeared to be my forehead.

My _forehead._

...

Oh, fuck me.

"RUN!" yelled Darius. And I felt my feet shuffling themselves automatically.

So I did, I ran for my goddamned life.

With my legs going as fast as they could, I hastily dodged the bullet that would've entered inside my brain and blown chunks of it off. The following bullets nipped parts of bark off trees and branches, allowing the leaves to fall over me as I ran.

If you could've seen it from a bird's view, it'd be poetic. Morbidly poetic.

The yells followed suit. Angry shouts, the kind that made you think that you were absolutely done for. I kept running. I kept sprinting and dodging and heaving air and pumping my fists as I ran that my heart felt like an automatic rifle, hammering out bullets of heartbeats a thousand times per second. My vision consisted of blurs that belonged to obstacles like upturned trees and rocks, barreling past me as I made my escape out of the forest. There was this . . . this stomping fanfare of what sounded like gallops, and they were going faster and louder by the moment that I couldn't make myself turn_—_

**WHACK**

Something hit my head. Something heavy and wooden and causing stars to streak across my eyesight. I felt my legs giving way, and my tastebuds welcomed the dirt as my whole body clashed to the ground, the back of my head felt like it had hot metal pressed onto it.

I was blacking out.

There was the whinny of a horse, not too far away, and I heard the grunt of a man as it sounded like he dismounted off of the steed. My vision grew hazy, with only the ground view of the grass occupying my sight. Eventually, I saw a pair of shoes moving to my direction; and with all the diminishing strength in me that I could muster, I lifted my heavy eyes up to see my assaulter.

...

It was another hunter, wielding a baseball bat.

He grinned.

"Slippery fuck."

And then, darkness consumed me whole.

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

"Jesus Christ."

The two of them stared at each other, they weren't supposed to know.  
This wasn't part of the fucking plan.

He held the CBI scanner in his hand, a look of disbelief and betrayal on his face.  
"Marlene set us up?"

The rain poured on us softly, we were nothing but shadows in the dark. But in that moment, I could see how dumbstruck they were.

And how doomed I was if I wouldn't act quickly.

"Why the hell are we smugglin' an Infected girl?" he spat in his southern drawl, snapping to my direction as if trying to stop himself from shooting me. I shivered in my little corner, trying to find the right words to say.

"I—, I'm not infected." I stammered, shaking my head.

Of course. Definitely. They would definitely believe that.

"No?" said Joel, tossing the scanner beside me without effort. "So was _this_ lyin'?"

"I can explain."

"You better explain fast." the woman, her name was Tess, lifted her gun up a little to silently tell me that I had limited time.

I fumbled around and got my right arm, unrolling my sleeve to unveil the scarred wound.  
"Look at this!"

Joel waved a hand and looked away. "I don't care how you got Infected."

"It's three weeks old."

Tess pointed her gun loosely at me. "No, everyone turns within two days, so you stop bullshitting_—_"  
"It's three weeks. I swear." I pleaded. "Why would she set you up?"

If they weren't Marlene's first choice (or second, or third) then she wouldn't have improvised_ that_ quickly; they had to give me credit for the point I'd proven.

But Joel shook his head, "I ain't buying it."

I scoffed and started to object, but before I could, something else interrupted our predicament.

It was the sound of zooming truck. Shouts of soldiers filled the air.  
And they were coming our way.

_The reinforcements._

"Oh, shit."

"Tess. Run." Joel ordered, but the two of us were frozen in place. They were running over to us now, flashlights started to appear, shining scopes started to gleam in the night air, and Joel's arms had pushed us out of our hypnosis.

_"RUN!"_

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

"Up ya go." Winston grunted, helping the girl sit on Princess' saddle. She gave a little whinny from the sudden drop but eased to rest as soon as Ellie started to stroke her head.

Before the two headed off, Winston yanked his head back and glared at Riley — whom was sulking around his camp like a vulture.

"It's _my_ alcohol, Riley. Keep your paws off." he said sternly, pointing a finger at her.  
Riley scoffed and placed her hands firmly on her hips, an action that was known famously for. "Oh please, I got my own stash."

Letting off a sigh, the two sent off, walking in a steady pace as Ellie fixed herself on the mare.  
"That girl, she's trouble if I ever saw it." he grumbled, gripping the reins tightly in his hand.

The girl chuckled, smiling faintly. "Yeah... I like her."

They were quiet, but it didn't matter. They had been preoccupied with gawking around at the remains of the mall. Walls of graffiti, broken-in restaurants, overgrown ceiling plants . . . it was as if they were exploring an underground temple.

Ellie, looked over at Winston, his sullen eyes gazing at the view.  
"What was this place like? Before the Infection, I mean." she asked curiously.

"Well . . ." He stroked his beard. " . . . when I was your age, I also did my share of skipping school. I'd meet with my friends, grab a burger, watch a movie . . ."

"...try and fail to make out with this hot chick, Roberta Coen." he cackled at himself, a pitiful, sad, cackle.

Ellie found herself grinning, her imagination already doing its part. She pictured it, the same life that was present in the imaginary arcade twenty years ago. She imagined dozens, even hundreds of individuals, all packed in a single area.

And it wasn't because of a quick scan or an assembly for a census. Hundreds of people went here for the _merriment._

He continued, ". . . rain or shine, place was always packed. During the holidays it was like, being in a can of sardines. I miss the holiday lights, everyone was all stressed out trying to buy gifts, but you felt this sort of . . ."

...

". . . magic _cheer_ in the air."

Ellie looked around, and there were people going up and down the escalators. She looked at a nearby store and found children flocking to a candy shop, one of them sucking on a large jawbreaker. When she passed by a restaurant, a family of four had exited out of it with satiated bellies, a waiter bidding them goodbye as they went off to their next destination.

She looked up at the ceiling, and there were lights—big, colorful, and bright lights that gave her a feeling of warmth. A feeling of happiness.

Of safety.

A feeling in which you didn't have to look back every damned second to check if there was an infected on your tail. Or to keep your head low as to not be seen by a pack of hunters. Ellie badly wished to have lived in a world like that—even for a little while.

Winston sighed, "Listen to me, gettin' all nostalgic on you."

"I don't mind."

She certainly didn't. It was nice to sit down by the warm fire and share stories with friends—well, that is if you counted a juvenile delinquent, an alcoholic soldier, and a horse as 'friends'.

The first trip around the mall had ended, and Winston handed the young girl the reins.

"Think you can ride her around?" he smirked.  
Ellie shifted in her saddle. "Uh, I'm kinda . . . new . . . when it comes to horses."

"You use your arms and legs — here." he replied, holding her forearm. "Give 'er a soft little kick to tell 'er that she needs to go faster. Then you guide 'er with the reins to show 'er which direction to go. Yank the reins back when you want 'er to stop."

Winston laid out the tutorials and Ellie absorbed every bit of information he told her. When he was finished, he stood back, giving the spotlight to the girl.

She took a deep breath, following his instructions. In no time flat, Princess galloped gracefully in a large circle. Ellie felt her muscles flex as she moved and heard her rapid breaths go in and out. The natural movement, the fact that she was riding a _living_ thing. She never thought riding a horse felt so . . . _alive._

Eventually, she had to give Princess a break, and she slowed her pacing when returning back to Winston. He gave her a bright grin, one that Ellie had never seen on his face before.

"Not bad, I'm impressed." he said, and she was all too _flattered_ by his compliment.

"That was pretty awesome," she replied. "Thanks, Winston!"  
"Yeah, sure." he shrugged modestly. "Old girl looks like she's had enough. C'mon, let's bring 'er back to the camp."

...

Shortly after walking back, Ellie had found Riley comfortably sitting down in front of the tent, reading a comic book of some sorts. As soon as she spotted the two, she got up and flung the comic away.

"How'd it go?" she inquired to Winston.  
His eyes darted to Ellie, a smirk plastered on his cardboard-like face. "Little lady's a natural, be gallopin' in no time."

She got off the white mare and walked over to Riley. "That was pretty cool, thanks."  
"Sure thing." she smiled in return.

Winston looked over at her, one of his strict glares, as they called it, was set upon Riley. "Now, I'm sure this'll fall on deaf ears, but why don't you go back home and _try_ to stay out of trouble?"

Riley smirked, placing a hand on her hip while holding up the other. "Please, you have to get _caught_ to get into trouble."

"Now, look—"

**BOOM**

An ear-deafening sound interrupted their conversation, and Ellie looked up to the source of sound, finding smoke and fire near the outskirts of the mall.

_Was that like, a missile, or something?_

"Shit. I gotta go find my unit." Winston cursed, mounting on an alarmed Princess. The mare snorted and trotted off, before the both of them could disappear from the mall, Winston turned back to the two gaping girls, their eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Riley, I'm not fucking around. Head back! _Now!_" he commanded, sounding more like the soldier he was. He yanked Princess back, Ellie watching them speed off to the great unknown.

This was different, a lot different from what she usually experienced. Explosions, were, of course, very familiar to her. But never had an explosion been this near to the girl's vicinity, she felt her knees tremble, not wanting to stay outside of the guarded schools any longer.

"Maybe_—_maybe we should listen to him." Ellie mumbled, looking over at Riley.

Interestingly, Abel's back was facing her. She seemed to be messing with some sort of gadget.

Gadget?

"Riley?"

...

"Hang on," she said.  
Because of her perspective, Ellie could see the gadget more clearly.

Her eyes widened.  
_A radio transmitter._

"Is that . . . is that a walkie talkie?"  
"Shut up for a sec, I'm trying to figure this thing out."

As if it had been delayed, Ellie finally started to fit the pieces together. Why she brought her here, why she went through all the trouble to tell a soldier to teach her how to ride a horse. There had to be something behind it, and she found it out.

Suddenly, it was clear to her.  
It all made sense now.

Riley was _using_ her as a distraction.

..

..

Ellie's feet stomped the ground, anger steaming on the top of her head. _"OH MY GOD!"_

"You... you _used_ me as a distraction so you could steal that from him! _This whole time!-_"

Pity for Ellie, she had been interrupted yet again.

_"Explosion in twelfth sector . . . three hostile groups . . . engaging enemies . . . likely Firefly affiliation . . ."_ said a voice over the radio, they could hear the rapid gunfire and shouts in the background. Static embedded the background hazily. Warfare present even from afar.

"I didn't think it'd happen tonight. But this is it, this is the way out!" she exclaimed excitedly, ignoring Ellie's newly-fueled hatred at her. "We're gonna find the Fireflies!"

...

They stared at each other—Riley, who was anticipating her reaction with a goofy smile plastered on her face and Ellie, who was glaring at her with pursed lips and widened eyes.

"The Firefl_—_?!" she sputtered, "What're you, fucking _nuts?_"

The older girl rolled her eyes, tucking the radio transmitter in her jacket.  
"Suit yourself." and she shrugged, sprinting away to the direction of the smoke, leaving the redhead behind in the dust.

...

All right, maybe she couldn't hate Riley forever. But, you couldn't blame her. She'd been used, it was blatant and simple that Ellie couldn't believe herself, thinking that she actually made a friend, how pathetic.

Then again, what if she had just stayed in her room and ignored those footsteps? The cycle would be the same: pick fights, go to a new school, and repeat. It had always been like that for all her thirteen years of living in this world she regarded as _shit._ This could be an open window to an opportunity, and she was about to let it slip.

_Fuck it,_ she thought. And Ellie ran off to the same direction, eventually catching up with Riley.

* * *

**I promise to speed it up a bit, and I know a lot of you are itching for the two of them to meet. (So am I!)  
****Thank you so much for reading, leave a review for your thoughts about this chapter! 'Til the next one.**

**-Taco**


	15. Martyr

**Author's Note:**

**Hey, here we are with Chap 15, not quite an eventful chapter, but you get the idea.**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Fifteen: Martyr**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

Beneath the muffled sounds of booming speakers, two girls ran in a marathon between life or death.

Neither of them, unfortunately, would win.

Racing packs of Infected grasped the air which had been left spinning by the sprinting girls, the remnants of a love song echoing outwards as they paced in a seemingly endless corridor. The howls of the Runners, of course, also echoed outwards to them. It reached both of the girls' ear cavities and would not stop diminishing no matter how far they thought they'd ran.

The older of the two, who was ahead, looked back against her barreling speed; only to find the Infected inching by the moment.

"Shit," Riley hissed, and she gulped down the icy heat that threatened to engulf her lungs as they gradually lost air. "Ellie, hurry up!"

"I am!"

They picked up the pace.  
And so did the humanoid monsters behind them.

Riley wished she hadn't played it. Of course, what an idiotic thing it had been to play a song in the goddamned mall using the goddamned speakers as they goddamned danced on the goddamned display case. _Stupid,_ she berated herself only when her mind wasn't preoccupied with running, running, running. _What was I thinking?_

They dashed through corridors, jumped over obstacles, went in crawlspaces and came out running. The Infected mimicked their every movement, and they seemed to be multiplying. The howls had drawn more of them in, encouraging them to partake in this wild, strenuous goose chase that, from afar, looked morbidly entertaining.

A fact that was evident during this moment of high duress, was that _entertaining_ would be the last thing in Ellie and Riley's minds.

In the end, after minutes and minutes of high-speed chases and close calls, their efforts were futile. For they found themselves straight in the middle of their soon-to-end lives, the Infected closing in on them from all directions.

They were surrounded.

"Riley?" said Ellie, clinging on to her arm and gripping it tightly, similar to how a man would hold on to the edge of a cliff as he dangled. Midst the inevitable fate of death by murder, she wanted comfort. Indeed, in their last, dying moments, Ellie wanted nothing more but to be with her best friend as they confronted the dangers closing in on them.

But Riley could not deliver her wants.  
She could not move. She could not speak. The arm Ellie had been grasping on to felt similar to that of a thin pole. Cold and unresponsive.

It is a sad, sad little fact, that they wouldn't make it out in the end.

"Riley?" she said it again, and it was the last thing she'd ever mutter. Ellie's green eyes were wide, gleaming sparks of fear present in both of her pupils so intense that you would mistake them for imploding stars. She didn't know why she had been calling Riley's name, even if they were surrounded and trapped and fucked and doomed. Maybe she was just looking for affirmation, affirmation to know that Riley was still there with her, trapped with her, and that she didn't have to deal with it alone. She could die with her. Together.

Riley finally replied by squeezing Ellie's arm. Yes, she was with her.

...

They looked at each other, exchanging glances midst the famished cries of the Runners. They had the look of readiness, despite afraid, they prepared for it. For the impact.

...

They closed their eyes and allowed fate to do its part.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

I remember it clearly.

It's something that I've learned, over the months of this journey, that my brain has this boggling talent to remember particular memories without a problem. I don't know if Ellie shares the same skill, and if we're both prodigies, but I remember it.

This was hours after my prior blackout.

I woke up in this room that, within my assumptions, was a light-less cellar. Empty bottles and containers were strewn about, showered by pale moonlight that illuminated from the mirrors of a small basement window several inches above me, where my back had been resting on its wall. Based on my sensation of touch, I'd been passed out whilst sitting.

My head felt like banana mush. With my mind still recovering from the lucid nightmare of Ellie and I getting mauled by Infected. It wasn't real, of course. But dreams have this way of making you believe that they were. And, with all my sense of consciousness, I hate those fucking nightmares.

I hated how easy it'd been for them to knock me out. How I was forced to be separated from the girl I'd promised to stay with. How, despite all my efforts, nothing would go the way I had planned them to. And even it did, it would eventually turn its back on me and change everything, regardless of fairness.

It was a curse I had to live with.

But we're straying off, let's focus back.

Wrapped in the darkness that in no way seemed comforting, my eyes were blinded by the colors of undiluted black. The kind of black that engulfs your vision, swallowing your whole body and overriding you.

The moonlight, due to the size of the window, could only shower itself in a certain place, and hadn't looked like it was going to move anywhere soon. Unless, you know, I had a flashlight. But my backpack and belongings were stripped away from me.

Thank you, hunters, and thank you, nightmare.

Moving my hands rendered useless, because duct tape had stopped them, they were swaddled around my wrists like handcuffs.

Cheap, degrading handcuffs.

Although strong and thick enough to restrict breakage.

An exasperated sigh of helplessness escaped my cracked lips, helplessness that made me want to slide back down to the floor, willing to writhe and coil in a fetal position.

Which I did.

I lay there for a moment.

Contemplating on my doom.

...

Until.

Until a faint cough of what sounded like it came from human vocal chords aroused my attention, and I straightened back up, knees pressed against the rough floor.

"Who's there?" I said, voice hushed beneath the oppressing air.

...

...

Here's a time to make me reflect on my past actions. One would say that it would be stupid to talk to the darkness, because you wouldn't know what the hell it had within it.

Who knows? There could be Infected.

There could be bad company.

There could be men wanting to pillage your corpse.

There could be a boy, hidden in pitch black, his electric blue eyes dimmed and damp.

Fortunately for me, I found the latter within the darkness.

"Leon?" I wasn't sure how I knew it was him, but I did. And I wasn't complaining. "Leon."

More sounds of shuffling clothes.

...

...

"Riley?"

"Jesus,"

"Riley." he said it again. _He._ Leon.

A wave of relief started to collapse onto me. "Oh, thank fuck. Leon, I— where's your father? Are you okay? Can you see me?"

A short silence, I could hear the scuffing of shoes. "Only the light over there. Dad, he's—he's . . . shit, I don't know, Riley. I don't fucking know."

"The light?" I queried. "Are your feet tied? Can you walk over to the light? I'm near there."

It felt like talking to the walls.  
At least the walls responded back with the voice of Leon Hutt.

"My feet aren't tied, but my hands are. But Riley, Jesus. That . . . that hunter with the bat, he . . . I thought you were gone for good."

"What the hell happened?"

Another quietness.

Leon, with his haphazard footsteps, trundled over to the light where I'd been anticipating him. I realized, now that he was under the light to scrutinize, he had sooty clothes with blood printed on various parts of it.

It wasn't a pretty thing to look at.

Nor was his face.

Actually—nothing about him right now was pretty.

His mouth dripped with blood on the side, his right cheek swollen and his scar still being a scar. Bruises were seen on his forehead and sides of the neck, to which he covered with a free hand on the latter body part.

"Oh, wow." I murmured. "They did a beating on you, huh?"

He shook his head. "You've no idea. You're not as much different, though."

We stood there, examining.

Leon coughed on the silent air and wiped his mouth.

"After you were uh, knocked out, I remember seeing Dad getting Gavin's rifle and shooting the two guys that were holding me back." He swallowed a rock. "And then . . . the horseman . . . he got your pistol and shot us. More of them came, there were tons. They dragged us to this place and . . . yeah. They didn't seem to be too happy with Gavin dead."

"He shot you?"  
"No, Riley. He fucking squirted me with his water gun."

I loved sardonic Leon.

"Let me see."

He shrugged and nodded to his right leg, it was smudged with dark red.

"Oh, wow." I said "How about your Dad?"

"I-I don't know. Shit, he needs to be alive . . . he has to be. I don't know what I would do if he . . ."

Leon shook his head. "Oh, crap."

"We'll find him." I assured him.

"Pfft," and he shook his head again.

"What?"

"_We'll find him_. Sure. What are you going to do? There's probably like a dozen of those hunters upstairs."

"I was trying to comfort you, dickwad."

Leon groaned. "Let's just get out of here, please."

And so we tried.

Due to our limitations, and because my arms were not very useful tied behind my back, I looked around the dark area, not a sharp object to be seen that would have been sufficient enough to help me cut the duct tape.

I turned back to Leon.

"Do you have a knife or something?"

He furrowed his brows and bit his lip, "Yeah, it's in my back pocket. Shame that my hands are tied together, guess we're just gonna here, huh?"

I rolled my eyes "Just lay off, I can reach it if you would turn around and move a little."

"Do I gotta move my leg?"  
"No," I replied annoyingly.  
"Okay. I think I'm capable."

Leon turned his body to the right, I faced my back towards him and allowed my hands that were tied at the back to reach for his back pocket.

I finally felt the handle of the knife, "Bingo."  
Leon returned to his original position and I handed him the knife.  
"Alright, I need you to cut the duct tape first." I told him, gesturing to my hands.

He willingly complied and grunted as he leaned forward with his right leg. I felt the blade of the knife among the layers of duct tape, feeling rather squeamish.

"Careful,"  
He intentionally moved the knife abruptly, "Whoops, my bad." He innocently faked.

"Do you want two injured legs?" I snarled, "Because that's how you get two injured legs."

Minutes after, there was a soft _snip,_ and the sticky adhesives had fallen to the ground like feathers.

I wrung my wrists together. "Ah, that's much better." I said, flexing my arms from the lack of movement.

...

"You're welcome." Leon interrupted.  
I spun to his direction, "Oh. Right."

After scissoring my way through the silver paper, I tossed the crumpled duct tape away and straightened up. I helped Leon get on his feet with the injured leg he had with him and climbed up the stairs.

"Fucking leg." he hissed.  
"Just try and deal with it for a while. We'll find some bandages and antibiotics to disinfect it later." I said.

We walked over to the basement door, holding our breaths in hope that it hadn't been locked.

Fortunately for us, it was exactly what we bargained for.

"Kind of weird with how things are going so well for us right now, don't you think?" Leon remarked.  
"Don't jinx us, doofus."

The door moaned softly with each movement that I applied on it. It was partway open, and I peered one of my eyes into the darkness before me, listening for any sounds.

Nothing.

I turned my head back to Leon.

"Okay. We're going to have to stay quiet as possible, _make no sound_. Got it?  
"Yeah."  
"Absolutely quiet, like a ninja."  
"Right."  
"Then, we're gonna go and check if Darius is in the—"

Leon rolled his eyes, "Riley. I know the drill, I've done this before."

"Did it involve getting shot and locked in a room?"

He paused.

"Okay, that was a first. But — you get what I mean."

We crouched, his injured leg caused him to grunt inaudibly. Our backs had been sticky with sweat, we sneaked our way out of the basement, and into the dark and voided room.

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

"Holy shit."

..

"She's infected."

The silence afterwards had been our confirmation.  
Yes, she was fucking infected.  
Yes, she was bitten.

And yes, she was going to die. It was inevitable, unavoidable,

_Unfair._

..

Joel took a breath and distanced himself from Tess. Not because she was Infected, but because he was taken aback by the truth.

"Joel. . ." she mumbled.

"Let me see it." he said in a volume that was barely audible.  
"I didn't mean for this—"  
"Show it to me." he repeated, more louder, more firm.

I knew in his eyes that it was a hoax.

She glared at him and grabbed her collar, lifting it up to unveil the large bite mark nearing the right side of her neck. It was a gruesome bite, small sprouts of fungi had already nestled themselves around it like a shore.

"Oh, Christ." he breathed, dumbstruck.

It amazes me, how strong she was with all this. How trivial all these sympathetic expressions we'd given her were. How _oblivious_ Joel and I were that we hadn't noticed her snappy and foreign attitude beforehand. It had to be after the museum. Had to be one of those Runners - or Clickers.

Fuck the Infected for all time.

"_Oops_, right?" she said rhetorically. Tess turned to face me, her forlorn look was replaced by a stern one and I was startled by her sudden movement.

"Give me your arm." she ordered. She quickly grabbed it and unrolled the sleeve that shielded the public's eyes from my secret, my curse, my guilt.

"This was three weeks." she said, walking over to him. "I was bitten an hour ago and it's already worse. This is fucking _real,_ Joel."

Three weeks. Three weeks ago on a sunny morning, I'd been spending all the _happy_ time I had in the word at a mall and with a girl, clueless of what was going to happen in the upcoming days. The upcoming days of fucking turmoil.

Now here I was, shipped and told by Marlene to keep my mouth shut, to keep all these sorrowful emotions to myself, and to wear a mask that covered my true face. They didn't know about my past, and frankly, they didn't seem to care.

To them, I was just a little girl who had enough luck on her side to steer away death.  
To myself, I was a living curse. All because of this fucking bite.

"You've got to get this girl to Tommy's." Tess said, it was more of an instruction rather than a plea. "He used to run with this crew he'll know where to go."

"No, no, no that was _your_ damn crusade." Joel objected. "I am not doin' that—"

"Yes you are."  
"Look." Tess said as she neared him. "There's enough _here_ that you have to feel some sort of obligation to me - s_o you get her to Tommy's._"

Joel couldn't face her, he couldn't bring himself to look back.  
I on the other hand, felt like a bystander, a useless prop that kept interfering with everything.

The sounds of a rolling truck interrupted the conversation and I looked out the window, a military vehicle was stopping in front of the building.

"Shit." Joel hissed.

The soldiers hopped out of the truck and marched toward the stairs.

"Watch the exit!" they yelled, black armor-clad figures were seeping out of the vehicle.  
"They're here." Tess said, bringing out her gun.

"Dammit."  
"I can buy you some time, but you have to run."

I widened my eyes, _what the hell was she doing?_

"You want us to just leave you here?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes."

Joel finally faced her, refusing the decision of sacrifice. "There is _no way _that—"

"I will_ not_ turn into one of those things!"

There was a pause, I felt uneasy hearing the shuffling of the soldiers outside the door.

...

"Come on," she said softly. "Make this easy for me."

Joel turned to the door, unsure of how to respond.  
"I can fight—"

She pushed him back.

"N-No, just go!"

...

"Just fucking go." she whispered, her emotions, her feelings, they were pouring out of her eyes like a steady waterfall.

I wanted to tell her,_ It's okay. You can cry, you can scream, you can thrash, and you can blame me for putting you into this situation._ But my stupid mouth wouldn't budge.

Joel swallowed a lump and spoke softly, his voice crumbling but stern. "Ellie."

...  
...

That was the only time I was given a chance to say anything.  
And what was it that I said, you may ask?

"I'm sorry I didn't – I didn't mean for any of this."

_I'm sorry.  
_Two gigantic words that felt rushed and apathetic.

Was that all I could say?

I wanted to punch my gut, kick my ribs, and to crawl in a hole to conceal myself in shame. And just outside of that hole would have a sign adorned on top of it, big black letters that screamed out two more words, as if warning any sorry soul that passed by.

_Bad omen. _it would say.

Yeah. Fits me, doesn't it? Bad omen. That's what I was.

"Get a move on." he ordered, and I ran ahead with my tail tucked underneath, awaiting for Joel to catch up with me.

When he arrived and placed his hand on the doorknob, he turned around, eyes sullen and dour; they met the ones of the Infected woman. They stared for the longest amount of time, and that was all they needed – all they could scrape by to say their silent farewells. There wasn't any time for sobs and cries and hugs or I'll-miss-yous. There was only silence and their clairvoyant eyes.

Joel turned the knob, and the gigantic door had blocked the view of the standing martyr.

...

Seconds later, a parade of gunshots'd filled the room, hammering the floor with its sounds. There was a sharp cry, a thud to the floor, and nothing.

Nothing but temporarily reticence.

...

Goodbye, Tess.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen will be released soon. Thank you very much for reading!  
****-Taco**


	16. In Holes & Corners

**Author's Note:**

**I'm so sorry for not posting a chapter in a while, life was in the way.  
But here it is! Along with an optional soundtrack that you could play for a more in-depth feel of the story.**

_First Horizontal Line: __The Last of Us Soundtrack: Drawn In**  
**__Third Horizontal Line: The Last of Us Left Behind OST: Unstable_

**The other parts have no soundtracks that I could find pretty suitable, but you can use whatever you want as you read :)**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Sixteen: In Holes &amp; Corners**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

Shadows.

That was what we were. Nothing but shadows.

The door creaked open softly, the faint light from the candle in the outside area seeped into the basement and down the stairs. The living room was thankfully empty, I looked back at Leon who was leaning awkwardly on one leg.

"What's the plan?" he asked in a low voice.

..

Almost inconveniently, the familiarity in his tone reminded me of a memory not too long ago._  
_

I blinked slowly, and as I opened them again Leon was no longer there. Instead, a girl much younger than him – probably by 3 years – was in his position. Her fading light auburn hair complemented her emerald eyes that pierced the darkness with its glow.

The walls were no longer made of cement but of white and yellow tarpaulin. The candle light became the afternoon sun and the air was unbelievably humid. The girl wore a recognizable striped tank while I had my old apparel on, a part of her right arm was bandaged; we were back at the carnival.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was her.  
_It was Ellie._

..

"What's the plan?" she asked the same question and I gawked at her, unable to respond, the delicate rustles of the grass was an indication that soldiers were nearby, but I couldn't care less about our imaginary impending doom.

"I..." I said uncouthly, still goggling at her. These phantasms were growing wilder by the day, it needed to stop.

I gulped and closed my eyes.

"Stop imagining things, Riley." I whispered to myself. "Focus. Come on."

A sharp ringing went through my head, causing my eyes to open abruptly. Ellie was no longer there, the environment surrounding me had changed as well, I wasn't at the carnival.

She wasn't here.

..

"What the hell are you doing?" Leon interrupted me as he snorted brazenly.

I turned to him, "Huh?"  
"You were like, talking to yourself for about 10 seconds."

"No I wasn't."

"I'm pretty sure you did."  
I rolled my eyes, "Don't you ever do anything else other than being a useless sack of blabber?"

"_Excuse me?" _he said. "Who was the one who helped you cut that stupid duct ta-" But I cut him off as I clamped my hand on the outer rings of his mouth, muffling his voice in the process.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Leon, let's just focus here. Arguing won't do anything." I told him sternly. He sighed as I yanked my hand back, nodding slightly at my suggestion.

"Great. Anyway, you see that room outside?" I whispered.

He nodded again.

"We're going to use the couches as cover. Then if we're close enough we gotta reach to the second floor, your father'll probably be there."

"My leg's going to be a problem." Leon said unwillingly.  
"There should be some medical stuff upstairs, but for now you gotta deal with it, sorry."

He groaned softly and opened the door, being the first one to go out into the living room. I held my breath in anticipation as I heard the wooden floor creak due to his footing.

He scanned the area and beckoned to me, giving me a thumbs up, c_oast was clear_.

I closed the door softly and crept as silently as possible over to him.  
"Our guns have to be here somewhere." I muttered as I reached him.  
Leon rubbed his chin in thought, "Could probably be upstairs."

"Well the thing is, I don't fucking know where the stairs are, hell it's too dark for me to see anything beyond the living room."  
"I thought you had a flashlight, use that." he sneered. "If you don't mind blowing our cover, that is."

I pouted and looked around, we needed a light source that wasn't bright enough for anyone to notice. My brain clicked as I realized that there was a white taper candle sitting comfortably on the dusty coffee table. Its glow was illuminating the center of the room generously.

"That works." I said as I pointed at it.  
"Ah!" Leon exclaimed as he grabbed the candle. "Sweet."

"I'll walk ahead, these hallways are pretty short anyway." he said quietly, lighting the way.

We tiptoed towards the hallway with Leon at the front and I at the back. The lack of hunters was rather unsettling than assuring, I wiped my forehead with my arm as I felt beads of sweat starting to form slowly on my skin.

We decided to head over to the kitchen (which was unsurprisingly abandoned as well) and poked around the area. The unappealing stench of rotten uncertainties lingered in the room, stubbornly refusing to dissipate. Leon placed the candle in a glass as we scavenged some food that the hunters have carelessly left lying about.

I grabbed the victuals quickly, having a sudden urge to leave the foul-smelling place.

"Jesus." I said, covering my nose as I grabbed an energy bar. "It smells like a mixture of vomit and... oh, God-" I gagged, closing my mouth shut with one hand.  
Leon raised a hand at me. "Riley, don't even _think_ about throwing up. Just breathe through your mouth."

"Are you kidding me? Have you tried breathing in through your mouth? You can _literally_ taste the shi-"  
"Shut up. Just shut up." he said, resisting the urge to barf as well.

I couldn't take it anymore, the stench was unbearable. We took all the edibles we could find and darted out of the kitchen whilst clutching our throats.

"Okay..." Leon inhaled sharply.  
"Okay." I said.

...

"The guns?" he suggested.

I nodded back.  
"The guns."

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

After following Riley out of the mall, they were back on the road, the faint sounds of gunfire and explosions could be heard several blocks away from them. Ellie was starting to rethink her actions, even considering to ditch Riley while she wasn't looking.

Not like she cared, anyway.

She was beginning to wonder if she was getting as demented as her.

"Sooo... any chance of convincing you that this is a _really _bad idea?" Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck.

Riley toyed with the radio transmitter, turning the nobs several times to try and get a good signal.  
"No chance in hell."

After a couple of tries she finally got the signal, static came out of the other side, followed short by a voice and other shouts of distress.

_"Engaging hostiles at MacMillan and Jordan. Send those goddamn reinforcements now!"_ a soldier said over the rapid gunshots. Another whirl cracked through the air, and an explosion rumbled the road that Ellie and Riley stood on.

Riley tucked the radio in her jacket. "MacMillan and Jordan... that's only a few blocks from here." she said as she hurried off. Ellie sighed and tailed her, imagining the consequences if they ever got into trouble, or worse.

What exactly were they trying to accomplish, here?

"Riley," she said, grabbing her arm. "These people have _killed_ soldiers. You sure you know what you're doing?"

She grunted, "We'll stick to the rooftops, we'll be completely out of harm's way."

Ellie gave her an unconvinced look, and Riley rolled her eyes, her hands on the girl's shoulders. Although this action was in no way lascivious, Ellie decided to blush stupidly at the sudden contact.

"Trust me." she said sternly, removing her hands from her shoulders.

The redhead nodded awkwardly, the touch still lingering on her shoulders. The two began to dash from one block to another, until they had finally arrived on the designated roads. She and Riley climbed a ladder to the roof of a building, allowing them to view the warfare from a safe distance.

It was _definitely_ a hellhole down there. Ellie's ears were constantly ringing from the _ratatatats_ of the gunfire and the continuous detonation of frags. She looked over at both sides, it was obvious that the military soldiers were handling this one quite well.

The other group was cornered, they were using the obstacles and the hazy smoke as cover. Several of the people were wounded, only a few were chosen to attack the opposite side. Despite the abundance of smoke, it wasn't enough to give them a chance to flee.

"Fireflies," Riley said. "And they're trapped, we've gotta help them."  
Ellie raised an eyebrow. "How?"  
"Smoke bombs." she replied, bringing out yet another object out of her whimsical jacket.

_"What? Seriously?_

As if she thought Riley couldn't hold any more materials inside of that magical jacket, she took out another smoke grenade and extended it over to her. "One for me, and one for you."

The redhead was reluctant to take it.

"Riley..." she took a breath, "This isn't like sneaking out, someone can get hurt."

She gave her an assuring glance. "They won't. We're gonna give them an opening to run. That's all."  
The trepidation in her was obvious, and the older girl was running impatient. She couldn't just stand there and wait while her 'people' were being massacred by the state.

"Look," Riley spoke up, trying to ride the irateness in her voice. "This is a shot at changing _our_ fate. Are you just gonna let them keep controlling your life?"

"Or will you fight for _something_ else?"

…

…

As Ellie weighed her options, Riley had a point, she was most definitely tired. Tired of doing the same routine over and over again. Nothing would happen in her mediocre life if she would just stand there and allow things to happen. As corny as it sounded, she needed to act upon it.

What else did she have to lose?

Ellie paused momentarily and looked at Riley,eyes locked onto hers, waiting for her decision. She furrowed her eyebrows and gulped, _there was a first time for everything.  
_"Screw it." she said, and Ellie swiped the smoke bomb out of her hand.

_What was the worst thing that could happen?  
_

* * *

**-RILEY-**

If there was one thing about this house that I didn't like, it was the eeriness. Why would they just dump us in here without anyone else guarding the inside? Why hadn't they just killed us when they had the chance? It was confusing, but there was only one way to find out.

Leon and I crept up the staircase, the house only had two floors, Darius had to be in one of the rooms.

As we arrived, the atmosphere was damp and dusty. Walls of paintings were lined up on the sides of the hallway, each portrait adding to the general creepiness of the whole place.

"I never understood art." Leon muttered, gazing at a picture.

We opened the first door to our left slowly, the room revealed walls and floors of white tiles, a broken mirror, a sink and a bathtub. Above the sink was a medicine closet, in which Leon hoped that there would be anything of use inside.

I opened the cabinet, unfortunately, there was nothing but a cobweb sticking out from a corner. I scrunched my nose as a spider greeted me right at the center of the web, I closed the cabinet and gave the bug some peace.  
"Of course, that'd be too easy." I said annoyingly.

Leon grumbled and limped out of the comfort room, checking the next door to our right.  
But as he entered, he took a step back and gasped, somehow shocked at whatever was inside the room.

"Jesus Christ."

..

"What?" I asked curiously, afraid to see for myself.  
Leon eventually opened the door wide enough for the both of us to see, I widened my eyes in disgust, appalled by the scene before me.

"Oh my god."

Bodies.

Several of them, there were so many. They were piled up on one another, most mangled, deformed, and even amputated. Splatters of blood filled the walls and furniture, there were entrails littering the floor, an unbearable stench filled my nostrils, one that was much more worse than the last. Not because of the smell, but because of where it came from. My whole body shuddered as I imagined how these bodies ended up so... _twisted._

But what was even more horrifying, was that these corpses weren't infected.

They were human corpses.

"D-did the hunters do all this..?" I stammered, backing away from the room.

"I... I've never seen anything like this... it's just... Fuck." he said.

It was a scene that would be forever etched into my mind. Something that I thought would only happen in nightmares. No, it was real. These people were capable of doing such horrible things. Things that not even an Infected could do.

And the thought of that was what scared me the most.

..

..

"This..." Leon muttered.  
"This would've been us..."

I turned to him, "Huh?"

He shook his head, "Those hunters... they probably... ambushed all of these people, like what happened to us. And then they tie 'em up and bring 'em up here."

"Then... they..." he stopped, not wanting to finish.  
He sighed, "It's like some sick fucking trophy room..."

Leon fluttered his eyes to rest and closed the door, blocking the gruesome view.

…

…

...

"We need to find my dad." he finally said, voice still shaking from earlier.

"We haven't checked all of the rooms yet." I said involuntarily, if that room had a bunch of bodies in it, I was scared shitless to know what the others might have inside.

"Yeah, okay. We can check 'em out-"

As if right on timing, a noise could be heard from downstairs.

We froze dead on our tracks as we heard a door open slowly yet loudly, like someone was giving the time for us to process what was happening. The slow creak was unbelievably loud, and what was even more unbelievable was that it could be heard from upstairs. My heart had stopped as I realized that we weren't alone.

Someone was in the house.

* * *

**oh look another cliffhanger how nice**


	17. Bait

**Author's Note:  
Here we are! Got a couple of optional soundtracks for this chapter.**

_First Horizontal Line - The Last of Us Left Behind OST: Apprehension**  
**Second Horizontal Line - The Last of Us Soundtrack : Vanishing Grace (Innocence)  
Third Horizontal Line - The Last of Us Soundtrack: The_ _Hunters_

**On to the story, let us continue!**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Seventeen: Bait**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

"Leon." I hissed, he hadn't moved a muscle ever since the door opened.

Our backs were pressed against the wall beside the staircase. I looked at him, his cyan sweater was drenched in his own sweat as he ran his fingers through his long, chocolate hair. My heartbeat heightened drastically, it felt like we were trapped.

We were sitting ducks.

_Again._

The muffled footsteps weren't straight, it felt like the person was staggering. It couldn't be an Infected, though, it was too silent to be one.  
I assumed that whoever opened the door was probably sulking around the first floor by then, wondering why and how the kitchen was scavenged and picked clean.

Leon swallowed a lump in his throat and turned to me, his eyes rapidly racing around as he tried to focus on my face.  
"The fuck do we do?"  
I was silent, trying to craft up a plan.

He furrowed his bushy eyebrows when I didn't respond. "Riley,"  
"I'm thinking."

..

"You got your knife, right?" I asked, Leon nodded and grabbed his small blade with a shaky and blood-spattered hand. It wasn't exactly the best assault weapon, but it would do the job.

"Only when necessary." I told him. Despite what I had done to Gavin earlier, killing wasn't really my cup of tea - let alone shooting him in the head. I was pretty sure Leon and I hated to kill.

"Right." he said.

We could no longer hear the Hunter, and Leon decided that we should head down and escape through the main door without him noticing. It was a ballsy move, but what other choice did we have?

Leon led the way and raised the wax candle. After heading down as silently as possible, we arrived at the lower hallways once again. The rotting paint smelled unpleasant as we snaked along its peeled off walls.

..

"Shit!" Leon cursed suddenly as he stopped in his tracks, I jumped from the oath and bumped into his back.  
"What, what?" I asked in panic.

He turned to me with a sheepish face; pulling out both of his hands with the other holding the candle.  
"The melted stuff burned my hand." he muttered, showing me the wax on his right index finger. I rolled my eyes and took the candle away from him.  
"Oh my god, Leon. You're such a wimp." I whispered, pushing him aside so I would be in the lead.

Eventually we finally found the main doors and went up to it. I nervously tried to twist the knob, hoping that it would open up and lead us to safety.

But of course, that would be too easy.

"Fucking great." I said, trying to open the locked door in annoyance. Leon pouted and turned his head to the kitchen, scratching his chin lightly.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked as he faced me again.

I frowned.

"Riley," Leon whined, as if reading my mind. "It's necessary."

I rubbed my forehead and prepped myself into a crouched position, "I'm going to hate this." I muttered, pinching my nose.

The afternoon sunlight seeped through the open spaces of the wooden planks that covered the windows. I started to calm down a bit and relaxed my tensed muscles from the sight of day. The Hunter had to be in the kitchen; if we wanted to get out of here, we had to take him out and grab the keys that he had possibly kept in his pocket.

We crawled our way to the room, holding our breaths as we remembered the stench that lingered inside. I left the candle back at the hallway as to not alert whoever was in there. Leon took out his knife, an indication that we were both ready to strike.

..

..

..

"Are you sure he's in this room?" I questioned softly, squinting my eyes through the darkness.  
"No." he answered. "But this is the closest thing we got-"

_Thump thump thump_

I spun my head around and looked back to where the footsteps could be heard. I widened my eyes as we could make out an outline of a figure from behind the candle that I left. My heart raced wildly as I anticipated the worst.

…

…

After an eternity, the figure emerged into the light. Its face and frame was slightly bloody and beaten. He clutched an arm with his other and limped as he walked. I heard Leon take a quick breath as he began to recognize the face.

"Leon? Riley?" the baritone voice called out, it sounded uneasy and falling.

But the voice was unmistakable, a smile grew on my face as I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It wasn't a Hunter, it wasn't an Infected.

It was Darius.

"Dad!" he yelled, not bothering to keep his voice down. Leon sprinted (and limped) across the hallway and into the arms of his father, embracing him tightly as he buried his face into his shoulder.

Darius was stunned, but eventually he returned the favor and hugged him tight. My heart ached as I viewed them, unintentionally imagining my own father embracing me, something that I had longed for ever since he was erased permanently from my life.

I shook my head from the hallucination and walked over to them, giving them a weak smile as I looked up at Darius.

"A-are you two okay?" he asked nervously, scanning the both of us from top to bottom.  
"Define okay." I sighed, gesturing to our injuries. Darius set his eyes upon me and grinned tiredly.

"You know, I didn't get the chance to tell you how thankful I was about earlier, Riley." he said. I shrugged as a picture of Gavin's corpse raced through my head, shuddering by the thought.  
"It was the least I could do, you don't have to thank me."

"Where the heck were you?" Leon inquired, changing the subject.  
"I was locked up over there, not sure how I ended up inside, though." Darius answered, pointing a shaky hand at a door that we had inconveniently missed. "My hands were tied, but I managed to find a way."

"Huh, I never noticed that room." I whistled.

"Which brings me to my next question." Darius continued. "Did you come from the kitchen?"  
Leon shook his head, "There was a door that led to the basement back in the living room. They didn't even bother lockin' it."

His father nodded in agreement as he scratched the stubble on his face. "Strange, the door wasn't locked for me, either."

Leon walked over to the main entrance doors and attempted to open it again, but it yielded nothing in return.  
"I tried that already, this door seems to be the only exit out of this house." Darius mumbled.

I rubbed my forehead and pondered on what to do, how the fuck we were supposed to get the door to open?

There was an idea forming in my head, but we needed a firearm for it to work.

"Do you have a gun?" I asked Darius.  
"Actually," he said, pulling out a small pistol from his back pocket. "I found this in one of the rooms."

"That's my gun!" I said excitedly, somehow surprised at how everything was falling into place so neatly.  
I cleared my throat, scratching my neck. "Um, can I just use it for something real quick?"  
"Not a problem, it's yours anyway." Darius handed the pistol to me and I faced back to the doorknob.

"Are you gonna try and shoot the knob?" Leon asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I did this once a while back, hopefully we can get it to open."  
"You do know that's gonna cause a hell lot of a noise?"  
"We don't really have a choice." Darius answered back for me. Leon sighed and distanced himself away from the door as he covered his ears. "Fine, whatever."

I took a deep breath and aimed for the knob.

_Here goes nothing._

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

I estimated about five hours after Joel and I narrowly escaped from the military. He had been quiet, most likely because of Tess.

I shook my head tiredly as an image of Tess' body lying in a pool of blood flashed before my eyes. She sacrificed herself for us, what she did couldn't be in vain.

I had to do this for her, and for everyone else who died because of this.

_And for Riley._

My heart sank at the mention of her name.

I looked over at Joel, whose hair seemed grayer than usual as the late afternoon sun shone upon him. It felt awkward hanging around the person who refused to bring me to the Fireflies, especially after what happened earlier.

Actually, I had no idea what we were going to do once we got the car. It was as if we were trying to make it up on the way.

"So let's say we get a car from this buddy of yours. Then what?" I asked.

"Well..." Joel grunted. "Then we go find Tommy."  
"Marlene said that he was your brother?"  
He nodded slightly. "And more importantly he was a.. Firefly. He'd know where to take you."

"Oh, okay."

"He lives far from here which is why we need a car." Joel mentioned plainly.

To be honest, I felt like a box of cargo, getting constantly shipped and transported around until I finally arrived at my destination, it was fucking tiring. I unconsciously imagined Riley being here with me, walking beside me as she goofed around and whispered things about Joel from behind his back.

"_Jesus, he really needs to lighten up_." I imagined Riley snicker. And I chuckled lightly, scratching my neck, my smile fading as I realized that she wasn't actually there.

Riley was still gone.

..

..

On a lighter note, Massachusetts was absolutely beautiful—despite it, you know, being in ruins. The environment felt safe and secure. The old buildings have crumbled to the ground, others had stood tall in all these twenty years of braving the hell on Earth.

After scavenging some places, Joel and I entered into a building, a restaurant of some sorts. The counter had dozens of broken beer bottles and cigarette butts. _Cigarettes, _that was also one thing aside from alcohol that I didn't get with adults. I grabbed the stick from the counter and threw it on the ground, stomping on it lightly with my sneakers.

As I looked to my right of the restaurant there was an object in my peripheral vision. My eyes widened as the terrifyingly familiar bold words _The Turning_ could be seen in a dark and bloody font.

"Oh..." I breathed out. "Look at that."

I walked over to it and examined the blank screen as it mirrored my face.

No fucking way.

"_You want to talk games? This is a real game." _I heard Riley's words echo as I first encountered the arcade system. My hallucinations got the best of me as her face appeared on the reflection, she was wearing her blue jacket and gray top while I had my striped tank on.

_We were back at Raja's Arcade._

"_You're playing as the unstoppable, claw-wielding, yet drop dead gorgeous: Angel Knives._" Her words echoed again, Riley slowly faded away as Joel went up into view, walking up beside me.

"What, you play this before?" he asked, calmer than usual.  
I shrugged, tapping the buttons on the board repetitively.  
"Nah,"

"But..." I said reluctantly. "...I had a friend who knew _everything_ about this game."

_Hardcore one-on-one fighter with hundreds of combos and this insane boss fight!_

Joel gave a smirk-ish as he looked at me, it was the first time that he cracked a smile, sort of.  
"Apparently, there's this character called Angel Knives who'd..." I sighed as I tried to recall. "What was it?..."

_She's got this finishing move where she punches a hole through her enemy's chest, then kicks his head clean off!_

"...She'd punch a hole through your stomach before kicking your head off." I laughed sheepishly, it only occurred to me now at how stupid it sounded when you said it to someone else.

"...Yeah, I've never been a big fan of these things." Joel chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He _chuckled_, by the way._  
_

I sighed. "Man, really wish I could play it."

...

I rested my elbows on the board and stared at my reflection, there was something about it that made me look different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. After a while, Joel let out a breath and walked away from the game system and into the doorway, his reflection mirrored from the screen as he gazed upon me.

"C'mon, Ellie."

* * *

**-RILEY-**

**BANG**

The knob fell promptly on the floor with a _klink. _Leon removed his hands and shook his head, "Even if you try and close your ears, it's still loud as fuck."

Darius opened the door slowly, all the light from the outside flew inside of the house and brightened up the place. It was as if a few seconds ago there was nothing but darkness.

But instead of seeing trees, birds, and clouds in the sky, there was nothing but large metal barrels surrounding the house. I lifted a brow in confusion.  
"What the hell?-"

"NOW!" a voice shouted from a distance, and almost immediately I spotted a Hunter stumble out of hiding from the outside, holding a rifle in his hands as he aimed for us.

No, he wasn't aiming at us.  
He was aiming at the metal barrels.

My eyes widened in fear as I realized what they actually were.

_They were gasoline tanks._

I froze before the doorway, we fell right into their little trap.

_We were done for._

"Get down!" Darius yelled as he grabbed the two of us and charged away from the door. But the Hunter shot first, and as I heard the automatic fire out several bullets, I also heard an ear-deafening explosion follow a split second later.

I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst.

* * *

**Some of you were asking how Leon looked like, personally I think you should use your own imagination. But if you insist there should be a link to a vague comparison at my profile. So you should check that out if you want.****  
**  
**Thanks a bunch! Chapter Eighteen will be released soon :)  
-Taco**


	18. Remaining

**Author's Note:  
So I deleted this chapter's document by accident and I almost went into a cardiac arrest.  
Anyway, here we are with Chapter 18! We've come a long way, thank you so much for sticking with me, you people are cray :O**

**Recommended Soundtrack for this chapter:****_ The Last of Us: All Gone_**

**Continue on reading!**

* * *

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**Chapter Eighteen: Remaining**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

Smoke.  
Dirt.  
Ash.

They were coalescing into this gaseous fume, dirtying my lungs with each inhale.

My _lungs. _They were hurting my lungs.

And they were burning.

My skin was slick with sweat, my eyes had been closed, but the embers of the explosion's fire seemed to have seeped in my vision to haunt me. I dared the urge to cough, because the air had been so . . . so _foul,_ that it felt like a dozen cigarettes had decided to take refuge inside of my body.

My body.

...

Speaking of which, after attempting to register my environment with my handy six senses, I was lying down on the ground. The spiked grass tickled my elbows and neck, even the greenery felt hot and rough.

Almost half of my human anatomy had been subjected to ache and stung like a bitch. I tried to curl my fingers, which seemed to grasp onto the dirty air of a blazing day. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe the explosion hadn't really happened, and maybe I was just hallucinating again for, like, what, the hundredth time? Maybe—

A cold, hard grip connected itself to my shoulders. Their fingers dug into the fabric layers of my clothing.

There was a voice that followed.

"Riley,"

And it sounded like Leon's.

Wait.

Leon!

"Hey," he spoke again, he was shaking me out of it now, whatever_ it_ was.

His voice was clouded with the constant burning and crackling sound of fires. Fires that were the result of explosions, fires that were filling up my lungs. There were faint shouts in the distance, shouts that could have meant that it belonged to either one of two very highly dangerous things. One, it could be the hunters, ready for retaliation and to claim their prize. Two, it could be the infected, drawing in to the house due to the goddamned explosion that would have woken up the literal _dead._

My eyes were coated with a healthy dash of ash and dirt particles, it stung when I opened them.  
_Slowly,_ I thought._ Let's do it slowly._

His figure was much more recognizable now. He was kneeling beside me. His clothes and skin were slathered with ash, and there was blood seeping out from a gash on the right side of his cheek. Oh, great. A gash on his cheek, one surefire method of leaving facial scars. I mean, I have one too. On my lip. Ellie has one on her eyebro—

"Riley!"

Right. Leon.  
This was no time for scar discussions.

For some reason, my parched voice—which I was sure was devoid from all sorts of hydration—began to cooperate. "What . . . what happened?"

"Their fucked up little mousetrap . . ." He pursed his explosion-affected lips. "The house is literally everywhere, but we're alive."

"Where's your dad?"

There was a heated pause.

"Shit, I . . . I don't know."

"We gotta find him."  
"But can you walk?"

I tried to move my legs.  
Thankfully, my thigh bobbed up and down, complete with the aches and all that.

"Yeah." I replied.

After several tries, I finally got on my feet with the massive, appreciated help of Leon. My legs shook terribly as I looked around. The gasoline tanks had exploded and damaged the house more greatly than I had thought. The explosion caused these mammoth holes and fires to appear in all parts of the house, my lungs, like before, were immediately filled with the black smoke as I inhaled and hacked as a result.

There was an air the color of blood surrounding us and the boy, ruins of the house scattered about.

How long were we out for?

"You alright?" Leon—while coughing—asked. I nodded my head lightly, looking at him for a better examination. His right leg that'd been shot earlier looked . . . swollen. Up to a point that it looked like a dagger pierced through him every time he attempted to move around.

"Leon, stop, yo—your leg."

He lifted a hand, doubled over from the exhaustion. "It's okay, I'm okay. We just gotta find Da—"

_BANG_

Looks like we already had.

We both spun our heads to the source of the sound. And right there, just beyond the wild, dancing flames, was Darius.

Darius. His figure was hard to make out since the flames that were separating us from him were too large. There was a shotgun in his hands, aimed and bared toward an approaching figure.

My eyes widened.

The figure was a hunter.

"Dad!" Leon yelled in a crumbling voice. Darius turned to the direction that we were in as he caught a glimpse of the both of us.

He lowered the shotgun, relieved to see the two of us in one piece.

"Get out of here!" he shouted back. "There's too many of them, I'll meet you back at the—"

The hunter he was aiming for had reached him.  
His gun had been forcefully yanked away, hitting Darius with the shotgun's handle with harshness.

"Shi—"

This time, while Darius was stunned, the hunter stepped back, chucking the shotgun into the raging mouths of the fires. It took me a while to realize that he wasn't really mental enough to throw a _weapon_ into the fire, since he eventually brought out a machete from his belt pockets and sheath.

That was when the realization dawned on me.

He had a machete, and he threw the shotgun away because he decided it wasn't enough to kill a man with satisfaction.

Maybe he really was deranged.

Another hunter who arrived in the same direction of where the first one came had grabbed Darius from behind, locking his right arm around his neck and choking him in the process.

The flames grew tall again, and I was unable to see for a few seconds. I yelled his name, because I was fucking _terrified_ out of my ash-covered skin. Leon mimicked me.

But Darius gripped both of his hands on the arm of the hunter and bent down as he dipped his head low, causing the hunter to fall forward and sprawl on the ground. My muscles calmed, easing when Leon's father claimed an advantage.

Unfortunately, that was only short-lived.

The first hunter with the machete ran from the other direction, he was too fast for Darius to notice. He punched his jaw once and positioned him in a headlock, restricting him from any kind of movement. Darius tried to bend down once again, but this enemy had more muscle.

The previous hunter staggered to get on his feet. He stretched his neck, beckoning for the one with the machete with his hand. He muttered something.

The man with the long knife, and who was positioning Darius in a headlock, handed over the machete.

I gulped. Leon gulped. The fires gulped.

As he twirled the machete in his hand, I could see Leon's face go paler by the second. We both knew what was going to happen. We _knew. _The truth is, neither of us were uttering a word. We stood there, helpless, separated by vicious flames.

Darius' eyes were shut tight as he tried with all his effort to break free. It was useless, the flames died down and I could finally see the three of them better, the hunter neared Darius and said something to him that was inaudible from where we were standing. He lowered his machete—lowered it _so_ meticulously—so it could line up to the middle of his torso.

My heart skipped a beat.  
Everything happened at once.

He drove the blade right through as soon as the other hunter released the grip.

Blood spurted out from his back, like a miniature fountain of red.  
Red, red was everywhere. Agony and despair erupted out of Darius' mouth.

Leon screamed.

The sight sent a twinge to my abdomen, and a hurling force established itself in my stomach that made me want to leap at the men and massacre them. The hunter laughed amusingly as he watched Darius stumble around, unable to speak or even breathe. He withdrew the machete as he yanked it back, causing a whole mountain amount of pain to fall upon him.

Another twinge. Another unbearable sight.

"STOP IT!" Leon screamed. As if by reflex, he grabbed my gun and jumped through the flames. The_ flames. _I didn't know if I was just seeing things again, but I was confidently certain that he just jumped through the fires.

"Hey— LEON!"

But no one answered.

...

Oh, shit. Shit.  
No. This wasn't happening.

My mind raced around, think, Riley. Think! _Leon just grabbed my gun and jumped through the blazes. What do you do?_

_What the _hell _do you do?_

...

A solution popped into my brain. One that I fairly much didn't like. Trepidation delayed my movement, and time was running short.

Shit. Shit.

Think!

...

I gritted my teeth. "Ah, to hell with it."

And so I followed the boy with his crazy blue eyes.  
I jumped through the flames.

It was surreal. The feeling was like passing through some sort of radiator that felt like exploding at any given moment. The pace of my movement had been fast enough to prevent major scalds, but too slow to have avoided mild burns. I rolled upon touching the ashen ground, grimacing as I ignored my scalded body. _To hell with it,_ indeed. Because it felt like passing through the goddamned netherworld.

Upon scrambling back up to my feet, I found Leon, his skin showing the same results as to what I had. He was a yard away from me, aiming my gun at the direction of the empty-handed hunter.

"Leon—"

_BANG_

The sound pierced the air and the hunter clutched his throat, choking as the bullet entered into his air hole. Leon limped over to him as the man crumpled to the ground, spitting out blood that got trapped in his mouth.

Almost bionically, he craned his neck toward the direction of the stunned, machete-wielding individual; his mouth drop and gawking. Once he had a hold of himself, he furrowed his arched eyebrows together.

"You fucking bitch—"

But there was another bang. And another bullet to the neck. Jesus.

...

The smoke leaked out of the gun. Leon, who held that aiming position for a while, dropped it to the floor. Because the gun didn't matter anymore. The burning house didn't matter anymore, neither did the mild scalds, nor the aching muscles, nor the netherworld on Earth, nor anything else. Anything else but the man who was on the ground, an impalement wound residing in his torso.

Fuck.

Leon trudged forward. It felt like there was tar beneath him, but as he walked, it gradually wore away, up to the point that he sprinted toward Darius.

Fuck.

He arrived.

"Dad . . . hey . . . " Leon mumbled as he bent down, holding his father's hand.

His face was strained, and there was a huge pool of red just beneath him.  
Red. That color again.

For once, in this mess of a life, the sight of blood felt as uncommon as it had been before.

"You're gonna make it . . . " he said nervously, shaking his hand. "You gotta get through."  
Darius visibly tightened the grip on his hand as he gazed upon his son. His mouth moved, but only gurgles and more blood came out.

I flinched. I cringed. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. I hated myself for it.

The boy was crying now.  
It took me a while to realize that I was too.

Leon shook his head rapidly, vigorously shaking his hand.

"God—" He examined the gaping wound. "W-we can patch you up . . . right, Riley . . ?"

He turned to me, he turned to me with those electric eyes that weren't electric anymore. There were ones that were watery and distant. There was a lump in my throat, something like this couldn't be healed.

Something like this couldn't be forgotten.  
Something like this shouldn't have happened.

And I stood there, as helpless as I felt when the fires separated us from Darius.

Because Leon and I both knew that he couldn't be saved.

He let out one, final breath as he closed his eyes, the grip loosening as I could sense the life in him draining away. It looked almost poetic, despite of it all. The way his eyes fluttered down, the way his heaving and haggard chest rises started to diminish and decelerate. It was almost poetic. Almost. Death could be terrifying, emotional, and beautiful. All at the same time. How could it do that?

How could the world allow things like _this _to happen?

When the breathing stopped, Leon leaned forward, as if expecting his father to open up his eyes.

"Dad?" His voice was muffled with tears.

...

No response.

The tears were streaking down his cheeks, his hand still holding on to his.

Fuck.

"Come on, Dad . . . get up . . ." he whispered, shaking his hand. "We gotta get outta here . . . it's—it's not safe here."

Fuck.

"No." and he shook his head again, tears watering his face. "Goddamn it, Dad, get up, please, get up . . . you—you can't do this to me. Dad, please, no. I love you. Dad, I—"

But nothing responded.

"No. No, no, no, _no_!"

In disbelief, Leon lifted his fragile back slowly from the ground and hugged him. He wept over his shoulder, he wept and he shook his head and wept again because the goddamned tears would not stop running out. My eyes had been leaking again, and I stayed by Leon's side.

"You can't do this to me . . . you can't . . . you can't . . ."

I touched his shoulder. "Leon,"

His grieving head turned to face me. Slowly, peacefully. Tears were stained on his carpeted skin.

And then, he embraced me.  
He embraced my scalded body and found comfort.

The fires around us danced crazily before the scene. The hot air suddenly felt like it evaporated into nothing. The world around us had stopped and ceased to function, it was only the two of us now, left to suffer and to brave whatever was ahead.

Just three things were left.

Despair, comfort, and warmth.

...

Warmth.

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
5 DAYS LATER**

He carried Henry first.

The tarpaulin was draped and wrapped around his body as Joel brought him outside the house, it was silent. Only a few words were exchanged between the both of us after what had happened.

I gazed over at the covered body of Sam. A pang of sorrow welled up in me just by looking at him.

_What if the people are still inside?_

_..  
.._

I let out a breath.  
_More lives lost._

"Damn it all."

The way Henry just gave up his life like that, I couldn't even imagine pulling myself to put a gun to my own head, let alone anyone else's. I stared at the wall a few feet away from me, and the spatter of Henry's stained blood made me feel sick.

Joel returned shortly thereafter, I had never seen him look so morose from all this. He kept it in ever since the events after the Capitol, and here he was, a face that I thought not even the most grizzled man could ever wear.

"How're you holdin' up?" he asked softly, he sounded delicate this time.  
"It just feels so . . ." I sighed, " . . . depressing."

...

"It happened so fast . . . i—it's unbelievable."

Joel nodded his head grimly, "I know."

He knew. He _knew_ how it all felt.  
I didn't know how back then, but oh, how oblivious I was to his past. To his everything.

...

"C'mon, Ellie." He walked over to Sam's covered body and carried him in his arms. I followed him outside the house and into the backyard, where Henry had laid to rest in one of the holes Joel dug.

He placed him down on the dug up ground, a pile of dirt and two shovels could be seen at the corner. We stared at the two corpses for a while, contemplating on several things as we watched.

Life was a complicated matter to discuss, some would take it for granted, others can regard it as priceless. What was the point of surviving if the world was already fucked to begin with? When it took away everything you knew - everything you loved, what was the point in living anymore?

You just give up your life, it was as easy as that.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it, even if I tried.  
Even with Riley gone, I couldn't.

...

Joel inhaled sharply and grabbed the shovel from the corner as he filled the dirt to cover Henry's grave. I did the same with Sam's, the rising sun shone on us as it marked a new day.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

I awoke just in time to find the sun rising up from the landscape. Its warm orange color welcomed me and its light drizzled on my skin. I got up from the crude sleeping bag and stretched, not much had happened after the events.

We escaped the burning house, and killed any remaining Hunters that decided to stick around. I had never seen Leon so hardened from what happened five days ago. As we finally made it to safety, we collapsed. I couldn't remember much after that, but only recalled that we found an abandoned home that was suitable to live in for a few days.

I looked around the house to expect to find Leon still dozing off in the couch. He had grown distant from me, but I understood what he was going through. We didn't get to bury Darius, his body - along with the rest of the house had gone up in flames,the sight of his ashes getting tossed around in the wind was tear-jerking.

After the rest, we planned to go back to Boston, the Hunters had dragged us all the way to Springfield, MA. I hoped that the Fireflies would still be there and would help me reunite again with Ellie, wherever the hell she was.

I shook my head lightly and opened the sliding door on my left. A gush of wind welcomed me as it entered throughout the remains of the house, I could hear Leon grunt and shudder from the icy air as he tossed and turn on the couch. Summer was starting to end, and winter would soon approach. I sighed and looked up at the hazy sky, the sun blaring my eyes with its heat.

Looking back, that was probably the most action-packed experience that had ever occurred to me since the day Ellie and I had been separated. Not a single shed of thought had ever popped into my head about the dangers of the outside world. Although you were shielded from all those atrocities, you would always catch a glimpse of how fucked up things really were.

And yet somehow we chose to leave the Quarantine Zone and everything else behind. Sure, it wasn't everyone's preference, but it was safe as long as you didn't screw up. At least there was food on the table and a bed to sleep in. But eventually, I had grown to despise the QZ, and the military along with it. The Fireflies had a similar motive, and that was what drove me to that goal. Getting out of there was my plan.

But to survive?

That was another story.

* * *

**Sorry if it seemed short, I'll try and put up the next one early! Thanks for all the support, please leave a review about your thoughts for this chapter, thank you for reading. I'll see you all in the next one! =D  
-Taco**


	19. Returning

**Author's Note:**

**Long story short: I'm back from being lazy and a new chapter is out, woo!**

**Good to be back, although I do say that writing this one was a pain in the arse :-)**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Nineteen: Returning**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**FLASHBACK**

Ellie grabbed the cylindrical metal can and pulled the ring out as she threw it below, not even wondering about the consequences of what they were about to do. It promptly hit the the roof of the car and landed on the cracked road as it started to fizz out the smoke, Riley threw her smoke grenade shortly thereafter. The fuse sounded more like a dozen of shaken soda cans opening instantaneously.

The soldiers were oblivious to it, but one who was huddled to a car's side eventually decided to acknowledge the sound as he focused on the fizzing rather than the rapid gunfire. He tried to beckon towards his higher commander quickly before it would explode into a cloud of gassy air.

Too late.

The smoke engulfed them whole. The two girls were hunched down with their heads covered, the intoxicated air filled Ellie's nostrils and she coughed as a result.

"Christ. . !" she hacked, swatting away the smoke from her face. She peered over the side and found the Fireflies fleeing from the area, there were more than she thought. Most of them were badly hurt and useless on their own, the well sped off with the injured and ran into the alleys. The military followed them as the smoke subsided, firing mindlessly at the exit ways with their teeth bared.

The two hooligans looked down proudly, the both of them grinning like they had just won a prize. Ellie's hands shook terribly from the nervousness, but she didn't care, this was the first time she had ever done something like this. And it felt good knowing that she was a part of this _little rebellious duo._

"They got away! We _totally_ fucking did it!" Riley laughed in a tone of disbelief. The redhead wouldn't have believed it either; because hypothetically speaking, if it came to two girls crashing their little party, who would've gotten the upper hand?

But Riley was a little _too_ overwhelmed with the accomplishment — if you could call it one — and she threw her arms in the air, yelling gleefully. Ellie stared at her, stupefied. If that wasn't going to alarm the soldiers beneath them, then she was going to push the girl off herself.

Typically, one of the veterans had spotted them and alerted the others. In no time flat, the soldiers whom were so oblivious to their presence were now aiming semi-automatic rifles at every inch of their bodies. Riley and Ellie froze their feet to the ground, and before they could've done anything further, they both cursed in unison and ran off to the rooftops behind them; fleeing for their young, young lives.

They hurried down the ladder on the fourth building, the gunshots were still in earshot but were faint and uncertain. They were surprisingly quick going down, not bothering to look back until they were both convinced that the soldiers were gone.

Ellie's breaths were short and rapid, and her heart was racing around as it fled to her stomach and into her throat, her eyes were a blur and were only focused on Riley, she was ahead of the girl, guiding the way.

On Riley's left, she took a turn to an alleyway and sped off. Ellie skidded to the direction and picked up her pace, when she whipped around to locate the older girl, she was nowhere in sight.

_The hell?_

Baffled, the redhead looked around frantically, only to find Riley's head pop up from behind a dumpster with her eyes glued onto hers. She rushed over and joined her as they scanned the proximity, Ellie's chest heaving in and out as she gave it the air it needed.

"_Completely out of harm's way_, huh?" she said in between breaths, giving Riley a quite miffed look. She chuckled and rested on the wall to their right, propping her legs up as she laid her tired arms on her kneecaps.

"You're alive, aren't you?"

"Where'd you get the smoke grenades, anyway?" she questioned.  
Riley bit her lower lip in a playful manner. "I borrowed 'em from Winston."

"You stole his radio _and_ his smoke grenades?"  
"Yeah," she laughed. "I guess our _amazing friendship_ is very fucking over!"

They both chuckled, and Ellie had decided to take a little rest as well. She leaned her back on the concrete wall and rested both hands on the cold, rough floor. She turned her gaze to the doorway in front of them, the open door had these barricade tapes hammered loosely to its sides with the word _quarantine _on each of them.

The wind whipped the tape around loosely and Ellie watched them waltz around with the air, still clinging to the sides of the wood as if their inanimate lives depended on it. Her eyes had suddenly focused and widened as she started to make out a distant figure from beyond the doorway.

"Hey... there's someone there." Ellie said, leaning forward a little to try and identify the figure.  
"What?" Riley tensed up. "Where?"

The shadow emerged and the redhead saw her long, greenish blond hair. It gave out hushed sounds that were inaudible to the both of them. She swallowed the lump in her throat hard, pointing a shaking finger to the direction she was in.

_"There."_

The woman's shadow started to approach them. She said no words but soft mutters.  
"You think she saw what we did?" Ellie whispered softly, huddling closer to Riley.

And then, she started to moan.

She gave out an inconceivably low and ghastly screech. Its feet scraping lazily across the cement as she limped slowly towards them — like she was trying to figure out who they were. But as she neared the two girls, Ellie had realized that she wasn't human — not anymore, anyway. She blamed her own naivete for not noticing any sooner. The rancid scent of its rotting flesh crept under her nose like a scent of perfume.

"Oh crap, c'mon." Riley swore as she quickly stood up. She attempted to move the younger girl from her spot, but Ellie's feet were firmly glued to the ground.

The creature caught their movement. It gave out another low cry, but this time, Ellie could see its eyes.

"Is she..." the girl mumbled, fumbling in between her words. _It was no human._ "Is that a...?"

Its eyes were bloodshot and hazy, its mouth was spilling over entrails as it fell to the floor with a sound that made Ellie feel squeamish. Riley gulped and spoke in a low tone, her stare never leaving the creature's fungi-covered body. "Yes," Riley answered, her voice falling back as its shadow loomed before them, covering their own from behind the wall.

"_Infected._"

* * *

**-RILEY-  
3 DAYS LATER**

Boston stood three thousand feet tall.

Leon and I were ants. Termites. No, bacterial microorganisms.

Yeah, that's more like it.

Crouched behind the bushes, we were yards away from the Boston gates. I should feel at home by now, should feel the alleviating feeling of nostalgia wave over me with open arms, should feel the wistful yet smoky air fill my nostrils that would bring me back to the times where the only worries were not getting caught by the Corporal.

Instead, I felt this unwelcoming shudder pass through my whole body so hard that I shook. I did not want to go back here. I would never want to go back here. The bridge where I fell from was on the opposite side, but from here I could still hear the crashing waters, the roaring gush of waves. I was permanently terrified of strong currents.

It took me a while to find my clinging hand on Leon's arm, gripping it so tightly that he grimaced and yanked it away from my grasp, leaving me empty-handed and desperate. His eyebrows were scrunched together and irritated, a faint scar slid smoothly across his cheek, like it had always been there, like it hadn't permanently left him a reminder of his father's death. Subtlety apparently worked that way, mysteriously, morbidly.

I wanted old Leon back. Not this serious, distant, deadpan replacement. I wanted my friend, I wanted to hear his sarcastic laughs and see his warm and bright blue eyes, not these jagged ones, forever scarred and pained.

When was I going to hear his immature insults and witty remarks? When?

Everything about him changed, even the way his hair was. It was short and cut clean, highly dissimilar to the curly brown locks, the innocent style, the aura that he used to have; all gone, replaced by this toy soldier. It had to be a phase, definitely, Leon was still in there somewhere, just had to wait for the right time.

I cut out of my trance when his words grew into reality. "Riley." His voice was different too. It'd deepened, sunk like rock. "C'mon."

"Right," I said. The plan, of course, how could I forget?

The plan was, strategically, to get in the Boston grounds without the military personnel finding out. Then, we should be able to sneak into the tunnels that led to the Firefly hideout (which I knew very, very well), and to hopefully find a Firefly or two sticking around. Emotionally, the plan was to allow this goddamned quarantine zone to wreck all my pent-up feelings. I swear, if I saw the roof of the military school, I would cry, crawl toward an alcove, curl up into a ball, and never emerge out of it. End of Riley Abel's story.

"Okay, plan," I said, "see that sewer hole sticking out? Boston sewerage system. There's a tunnel in there that leads up to the Firefly headquarters. As far as I know, the military doesn't check on it, not that part of the tunnel system, anyway."

Leon's neck craned to me, robotic. "And you know this, how?"

"I thought I told this to you," I raised a brow. "I used to be a Firefly."

For a moment, old Leon flickered from inside of his shell, and I held my breath, waiting for it. . . waiting for that small part of him to awaken once again.

...

"Didn't know they recruited annoying smartasses like you."

I missed you, old friend.  
"Takes one to know one."

Leon scoffed—he actually scoffed, I haven't recalled him doing that in days—and took out his revolver. "Let's get this over with." He went up ahead and ambled over to the direction of the entrance of the sewer tunnel, beckoning for me as I scampered across.

The walled hole was three feet in height, clamped shut by a metallic slab. I grabbed for the handle, with Leon joining in, and pulled. Pulling harder than you could ever imagine. The metallic trapdoor eventually gave up, earning a horrific mechanic screech that vibrated our everything; it was open. A smell pushed forth from the sewers and entered our noses. Leon backed away swiftly in disgust, while I, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, Jesus." Two of his hands were suffocating his face. "That is fucking rancid."

We decided to breathe through our mouths.

The sewers were damp and dark, lines of moss crawled up through the cracks on both walls and floors. The height was three or four feet higher than ours, old sewage water dripped down and tickled our shoes. The walls were sludge-filled and stench provoking, this wasn't how the tunnels were months ago. Definitely wasn't.

"Man, would it hurt for some cleaning?" Leon shook his head. Old Leon. "Your Firefly pals need to get some priorities straight."

"The tunnel wasn't this bad, last time I've been in here," I replied, guiding our way farther into the underground labyrinth, our voices and flashlights bouncing off the gunky walls. "We maintained the cleanliness and everything. Hell, this smell wasn't here before. No idea what's up with that."

Our voices continued to sound off. "Well," Leon mused, "the faster we get out of here, the be—"

His walking abruptly stopped. His everything stopped. His calloused hand grabbed for the dirty air and clenched the edge of my shirt, reeling me closer to him. My feet shuffled clumsily around, until my back had knocked and rebounded against his chest.

"What?" I bit out, his hand now clamped on my shoulder. Leon didn't say a word, taking my flashlight, he guided the cone of light to shower on a particular corner of the sewers.

And upon analyzing the specific location, my blood froze.

From the area, there was a figure, and rats. The rodents reacted toward the sudden flash of light, and in a hurry, they scurried away, retreating from the figure they were previously messing with.

Oh, and, _naturally_, that figure was a human body. Slumped against the dirty wall, freshly dead. The rats had picked and torn pieces of his revealing skin. Disgusting.

The smell from the sewers?  
Yeah, it came from him.

"Oh, God," I said, resisting the urge to retch.

Leon's Mighty Hand of Steel removed itself from my shoulder, he walked over to the slumped body, shining his flashlight on him. The corpse was blanketed by more rats, smaller than the ones prior. They all had reacted similarly and fled, away from the light, away from us giants. There were two bullet holes in his stomach, dried up blood seeping out of it.

"Firefly." he said, in a whisper.  
"What?"

His blue eyes went from the body to me.  
"He's a Firefly."

My own flashlight was on now, shimmering against the body's side, revealing a black, blood-splattered armband with the infamous insignia. Of course. He was a Firefly. A type of dead species that were commonly found scattered among the ruins of a broken United States. No biggie. Wait—scratch that. I was contradicting myself. This was a big, _big _biggie, because this sewer wasn't really 'common' territory. And more importantly, this territory belonged to the Fireflies.

The dead man's head hung low, almost as if he was dozing off.

But his eyes were open.  
And they were freezing me.

They were dark, as if he didn't have pupils, like he was soulless. A shudder managed to dig its way up my spine, preventing me from tearing my eyes from his. _Stop looking at it,_ I thought. Tried. Couldn't. His gaze was hypnotizing me, making me see into his absent pupils even more. _They're so black,_ I thought, _why are they so blac—_

"Do you recognize him?"  
I forgot Leon existed for a moment.

Shaking my head, I crouched down and tried to examine the rotting features; even went ahead and attempted to mourn for the death of my fellow comrade. Although technically, I wasn't really a Firefly anymore. I don't think it mattered whether or not I was at this point. But back to the topic, no, his face was foreign. Great. Another faceless stranger I had failed to register and sympathize with. I really was apathetic, wasn't I?

I shook my head and brought out my hand, bringing the corpse's eyelids down and allowing him to sleep, sleep in a trance called death. How I envied him.

"Don't know him." I said, standing back up next to Leon.

But this answered my previous question. The horrific smell originated from him, a fresh corpse. And essentially, he was a Firefly. A _dead_ Firefly in a tunnel strictly used for people like them. Trying to think of ways on how he specifically died yielded scarce results. Yeah, I wasn't really a forensics pathologist, either. But it was enough for me to put the pieces together.

"Shit," I muttered, tugging Leon's arm, "the military must've gotten to them."

"The military?"  
I ignored him. "C'mon."

We took little time reaching the end of the labyrinth and climbed up the ladder that let to the headquarters. The rust of the ladder's steps tickled my fingertips, with Leon's hair ruffling the base of my shoe as we ascended up and away from the foul-smelling sewers. The lid of the manhole was peculiarly off, and light seeped in from the outside and into the hole. We climbed our way out, our faces meeting sunlight as we breathed in the scent of urban but decent smelling oxygen.

The headquarters was more like tightly bunched up structures that were more of cement huts than buildings, considering that there wasn't any other structure that was more than two floors. Leon's forehead creased in confusion, this was obviously his first time in a Firefly-dominated territory.

"So uh," he said, looking around the cramped area, nonplussed, "shouldn't we have found someone by now?"

"Let's check the main headquarters." I suggested. "Keep alert, that Firefly body was fresh, whoever shot him could probably still be here."

We rounded up corners, peeking our heads out and scanning the areas. Both our ears were perked and alert, reacting even to the slightest amount of noises. There were obvious signs of blood, but no bodies had been found. This sparked our curiosity, obviously, and had gotten me to wonder on whether or not Marlene and Ellie were still here with the Boston squad. One hut had been cleared, then two huts, until eventually all of the stone structures have been heavily examined, all except the small, square chalet that was erected near the western part of the hideout.

Odd one out.

Leon advanced forward, his hands trained on his gun and cautious. From my time staying here, the building had only boarded windows and dim fluorescent lights from the inside, I guessed it was some sort of old repository turned into a quaint little lunchroom. We often ate there with most of the Boston Firefly squad present; although Marlene, Geoff, and some others preferred eating in solitude. My thoughts tuned out when Leon's hands had now reached up for the metallic doorknob, twisting it.

It opened.

The hinges creaked. Horror movie creak. Like that black and white Dracula movie that was always projected every October during my years in school, _that_ kind of creak. Count Dracula emerged out of the building, his pale skin almost illuminating. His hands were raised and wiggling in the air, yelling in his Transylvanian accent, "I am going to suck your blood!" and digging his teeth into Leon's neck. His scream pierced the air, only to die out by the sound of bloodsucking.

But that didn't happen. Obviously.

Instead, Leon went in, and he got out in the same amount of time he came in, almost tripping when backing up. My eyebrows were raised both confusingly and anxiously as I found myself walking to him without my own consent. I needed to stop doing that.

"What, what?" I queried, glancing at him and then at the open door and then back at him. Leon's shaken blue eyes steadied themselves, he moved his head vigorously, attempting to get a hold of himself. If something from the inside of that lunchroom made him look like that, _I_ sure as hell didn't want to go in.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." His voice contradicted him. "I just. . . remembered something when. . . shit." He shook his head and went back in, leaving me gawking.

"Leon?"

He had gone inside, I was left standing before the chalet with the faint fall breeze whipping against my back. Yeah, I needed to go in with him.

So I did. Reluctantly.

And when getting inside, boy, was it a table-turner.

Inside the lunchroom, with Leon in the center of the room, I found that the tables have _literally_ turned. Or, to say it better, flipped over and used as some sort of cover. Gunshot holes advertised the tables and walls, leaving blood on the latter and on the floors. There were bodies, about five to seven, all with the similar yellow clothing. All with the same armband strapped to their arm as if it was a curse.

They were Fireflies. Dead Fireflies. Awful.

"Holy hell," I heard Leon mutter. Holy hell was right, this was fucking unbelievable. They've been slaughtered in the middle of their safezone. A pity, their luck was, really. I moved the overturned tables toward the side of the wall, allowing for more space to move around. The soft squish beneath my shoe made me retract my said foot back as I looked down, finding a hand that was linked to a dead Firefly on the ground, the back of his head was looking at me, his face touching the linoleum floor.

_Sorry I stepped on your hand,_ I telepathically told him, _and I'm sorry that I couldn't have saved you._ I looked at the corpses around us. _A__nd you, _I telepathically told another slumped body. _A__nd you, and you, and—_

Wait.

I stopped and my shoulders squared themselves more tightly, making me blink twice. Strange. I could've sworn Body #2 just twitched his foot, he was the one slumped to the wall. I squinted my eyes. Oh, this was when the realization came in, because Body #2 had a straggly beard, a pool of blood beneath him, aging skin, and an unmistakably signature _beanie_.

My stomach did a somersault.

...

Body #2 was Geoff.

Wait, did that mean he was still alive? His foot twitched, I _knew_ it did, I noticed. Leon must've noticed too, because he was approaching him. Oh, man. My inside voice was panicky again. Oh man, oh man. I was still glued to the ground, next to Body #1's stepped-on hand. I could feel him tapping my shoe with his fingers, telling me to follow Leon and approach the slumping Geoff.

Maybe he could still be saved.  
I tailed Leon from behind like a frightened pup. When we properly approached, he knelt down, examining Geoff. His eyes were fluttery, and they were moving. The blood in my head was pounding, I repeat: He was _moving!_

"This guy's still alive." Leon called out, unaware that I was just right behind him. I too knelt down, with my eyes desperate and my hands resisting the urge to shake him out of his dying trance.

"Geoff?" I blurted out, almost shouting. Leon's head turned to face me, eyeing me an expression that obviously said: _You know this guy? _

Of course I knew this guy. He was my goddamned mentor.

He stirred around, giving out a soft grunt. I could see the life in him fading away, my hands had gotten the best of me and now I was shaking him hard until his eyes were slightly open, still adjusting from the light as he focused on mine. Suddenly, his pupils dilated and shrunk back to normal size again, his breathing was slow and unsteady. I've never looked so up close, you know, seeing him like this. His eyes were profoundly gray. Silver, the shining kind of gray._ Wow. _I never knew eyes could look this metallic.

Geoff's silver eyes were wide now, watching me, making me freeze again. I remembered the other man's black ones. Only this time, he was speaking.

"Either I'm dead. . ." He croaked, biting back some kind of irreversible pain, ". . . or trippin' on damn acid."

I laughed, not sure why, but I laughed. Half-laughing, half-choking up. I pushed back the tears that were _this_ close in giving way (I know you can't see me right now, but just push your two fingers together and you'll get the idea). I was grabbing his bloodied hand that was apparently covering a bullet hole near the side of his chest. I was clenching his palm so hard, not even caring if I had his blood smeared onto me and soiling my clothes, he was clenching mine back. We were like two insurmountable forces, one at the edge of death, grabbing for something to hold on to before letting go.

"Holy shit," He breathed out, desperately, trying to grab for air. "Riley," My name came out as a whisper.

His expression stirred disbelief, then confusion, then happiness. His wounds had battered his smile, but it didn't stop the tired grin of his to shine brighter. I rubbed his hand, not quite sure what I was doing.

"I made it out, Geoff." I told him, still clenching, afraid that he'd let go. "I made it out. I'm here." I was repeating the words again, much to my unawareness. Geoff mimicked me with a haggard breath. "You're here. . ."

He brought up his other hand, shaking heavily like he was suffering from Parkinson's. They were wrinkled and calloused, but I allowed his tattered palm to guide itself across the lines of my face, his fingertips were soft and blanketed by a layer of blood. His eyes were still wide and silver. It's like it was the only part of him that wasn't dying. Yet.

"You're fuckin' alive. . ." His grin grew wider, and I assumed that stretching his face muscles hurt like hell because he scowled at the action. "El_—. . . _Ell. . ."

My back arched. _Ellie.  
_"What happened to you?" queried Leon, whom I once again forgot existed.

Geoff's head coiled to his direction, his wrinkled forehead wrinkling even more. ". . .and who the hell are you, _pretty boy._ . ?"

"That's Leon. He's_—,_" I stopped and pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. "Kind of a long story. What happened here?"

Geoff gave out a hoarse cough, it was surprising that he hadn't coughed out a lung at this point. "Ah, Riley. . . the fuckin' military happened.." he replied faintly. "Marlene and some of the crew left a couple o'days ago. . . to head west, preferably in the north. . . We were s'posed to follow 'er, but these damn dogs came in and shot us all up. An hour ago."

I took out a roll of bandages from my pack. "W-we can patch you up_—_"

But Geoff lifted his arm and swatted away my hand. "N'aw, don't waste your time, child."

He breathed out again, but this time, he coughed up blood in the process, making both Leon and I flinch uncontrollably. It trickled from his lip and down into his gray beard, creating a corner of it in just a faint shade of red. I pulled out a rag and wiped, earning me a mute thank-you.

". . .Ellie's not here," Geoff continued, "she ain't at the Capitol either, been a hell long time since she'd gone. If she's still with that remaining smu_—_. . . smuggler, she'd be heading the same direction as Marlene. . ."

I turned to face Leon, and he mouthed the word: _Ellie?_ Oh, yeah. It came to my attention that I really never mentioned her name once when I was with Darius and him. I mentally groaned, imagining Leon firing off questions about the girl_. Great._

Geoff's silver eyes twinkled as he smiled at me. "It's great. . . to see you alive, by the way."

"Same with you."  
He wheezed out a chuckle. "Oh, I'm as good as dead, Riley."

I took his shaken hand. "W-we can help. . . what do you want us to do?"  
There was a pause, and I was afraid that he was already gone. Fortunately, his breathing returned, only it sounded extremely frail, ready to break without a moment's notice. "Leave. . .head out west, find that girl. . ." he said, ". . .she was. . . devastated, you know? On that day, that poor little soul, I've never. . . never seen the damn child cry till then. . ."

My heart felt tied by the strings. She went through all that, all of that unnecessary mourning because of me. Leon was silent, I felt his tired muscles tense as he was reminded of a similar situation. I sighed and shook my head, turning back to Geoff who was quickly fading away.

"Would it be fine if you. . . stayed here. . . a little while longer?" he wheezed, his chest still heaving slowly. I nodded, "Yeah. Of course." and huddled up next to him, his death was inevitable, so it seemed, but sitting here against the bloodied wall next to him appeared so casual and normal. It was difficult to look at him, with his bleeding chest and pale face, so I focused my view beyond the door. Leon joined in, with me on Geoff's right, and him on his left.

"Always thought this was comin'. . ." he spoke up, his eyes fluttering and opening every now and then, I craned my neck to face him.

". . .Guess it's what I get for joinin' the damn 'Flies." He was pitying himself, for some reason, then proceeded to mutter about how good some brandy would be right about now. Leon and I checked our packs, the only thing drinkable was some rainwater. Geoff weakly shrugged and took it anyway, to hydrate himself.

He set down Leon's bottle and straightened his back against the wall. I looked at him, as if in wonder. How could a man be so calm when facing death?

"Why'd you join the Fireflies, anyway?" I asked him, softly, afraid that my words would shatter his fragile frame.

His silver eyes gazed outside of the building.

...

". . .I had a wife. . ."

Oh.

No, let me rephrase that.

_Oh._ Holy mother of _Oh. _Take notice that he _had_ a wife.

"Right before the outbr. . . outbreak, she was pregnant"_—_I mentally_ 'Oh'_d there again_—_"with our daughter."_  
_

"When the fungus went spreadin' around, I was still in. . . Arizona. My wife, Cecilia, she_— _she wanted to keep our kid in 'er alive. . . had to board up all our windows and stocked up as much food as possible. We were lucky the place was rural. . ."

". . .apparently, there was a Goddamn 'vacuation notice that we ain't heard, still too busy try'na isolate ourselves that we fo_—_forgot about it. It was a bombing notice."

I swallowed hard. Leon fidgeted around as he sat.

". . .the bombs dropped when I went out to scavenge. Ce-Cecilia was still in 'ere. . . after the bombing, the house was in fuckin' ruins. I couldn't. . ."

...

"I couldn't find her fuckin' body." He was silently weeping. I didn't notice that Leon had stood up and had gone out of the chalet, guess he couldn't take it anymore. It reminded him of too much. It reminded me of too much. But I had to stay with him, had to hold his hand before he would let go.

". . .our. . . our daughter never got the chance at_—_at life. Fuckin' military. . ."_  
_

Ah. So this was how his origin started. His hatred at the military due to his wife's untimely murder. I shuddered, imagining it, Geoff coming home to find his house in ruins, confusion probably filling inside him, then refusal, then utter desperation. I remembered it, how I had to kill my own father—

"I'm sorry." I told him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. He wiped his bloodied tears away, sniffing sharply before continuing.

"I left everythin' behind. . . and went for Boston. Tried to start anew, turn over a new leaf and all that other bullshit. It ain't easy crossing the damn country. Took me. . . took me a year."

"Then I got ambushed by these fuckin' bandits. . . almost got m'self killed when. . . this man, he and his crew fought 'em off. They looked like heroes in yellow clothin'."

I knew what he meant. He was saved by the Fireflies.

"One thing went after the other. . . and here I am. . . about to die. Helluva sob story, ain't it?"

"Yeah, took a hell of a ride to get here, old man." I smiled, my eyes bulbous and watery. Geoff turned to face me, and his skin was pale. Too pale, as if Dracula had really sucked the blood out of him.

"Riley. . ."  
"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor, would you?" he softly asked, slowly taking something out from his pocket. He dropped it on my palm, it was a small, metal circle, soaked in blood.

_Geoffrey Sutherland_ \- 000348

Oh, no. Please, you were _not_ doing this to me right now. Please.

"No, you're not going to die. I'm not letting you. You can't give this to me." I pleaded, only it came out as, "Okay." in the most miserable pronunciation possible. I was not emotionally_—_nor physically_—_prepared for this, not at all. Geoff was basically giving me his last dying wish. He knew it was the end of the road, I knew it too, though at the time, I was too stubborn. And as if purposely, the utter refusal of dying Geoff seemed to have made me _empathize_ with Leon and his father. Was this how it felt? To be completely, utterly desperate and useless that the only thing you could do was lie to yourself?

I looked over at Leon, who was now outside of the building with the doors open, his back facing me, he didn't want to deal with a similar experience. I understood. Swallowing the enormous thorn lodged in my throat, I tucked the Firefly pendant into my bag.

"Thank you. . ." Geoff coughed.

...

"Now. . . I want you to leave immediately. . . you and _pretty boy_ over there."_—_he pointed a shaking finger at Leon's back_—_"Don't turn back, and don't even bother returning here. . . or you'll see my bones covered in a pool of my own fuckin' piss."

"But_—_"  
"Go. I ain't hearin' anymore of your _buts._"

I nodded, standing up, my fist still clenching despite the fact that I had released Geoff's hand already. It took a century to properly say farewell, and a millennium to exit the building without looking back. Leon was already outside.

But before I could reach the end of the doorway, his shaking and fragile voice called out for me.

"Oh. . . and one more thing," he chuckled, wheezing. I looked back, and his eyes were blunt. The silver gleam in his lens had disappeared, they were _rusting_. The way iron does when you neglect its use. I resisted the urge to run up to him and hug him, I stood my ground, a foolish decision.

"When y'do find 'er. . ." he croaked, "say 'hi' to Ellie for me. . ."

His chest heaved in.

One.  
Final.  
Time.

". _. ._and _never. . ._ keep your. . . guard. . down. . ."

...

...

...

When we reached the outside, about five yards after exiting out of the door. I broke into tears, the barrier officially broke, and I was hysterical, resting on my knees. Leon was there, saying nothing but holding me close to him. That was all I needed. Old Leon. My old friend, here to comfort me and allowing me to mourn in his arms, not needing words to express his empathy. Yes, this is what I wanted for a while, the comfort, something I had not felt in so long.

And while he held me close as I cried until all the water in me had been sucked out, I pictured Ellie in my mind, wherever she was, with whomever she was with. Suddenly, something stoked the coals inside of me, and I wiped my swollen eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, tugging the straps of my knapsack further as we exited Boston, determined to find her, though unsure of what the future was willing to show us.

It took so much to get here, it took too much pain, hardships. . . sacrifices.

How far were we willing to go?

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
67 DAYS LATER**

I heard the wind howling outside. It wasn't the normal sound that it sung, it was different. During the fall season when there was nothing else to do I would look out the window of my old room, in an old building, and in an old military school. I would rest my arms on its windowsill, I even allowed my hair to be let down as I listened to the nature's cooling voice.

The colored leaves danced around in spiral motions, often one of them would land in my room and I would keep it pinned to the wall until it rotted. You could say that I was a pretty weird kid, and I probably still am.

But this wind wasn't calming as the one I'd heard years ago. It was creepily cold, in an emotionless way. It reminded me of a lot of things, death, to be at the top of my list. I walked over to the window and peered out of the broken down house, and instead of seeing the colored leaves, I saw nothing but snow and ice.

"What the..?" I uttered to myself. Fall was only in mid season, seeing snow at this time of the year was fucking impossible. In a panic, I looked around for Joel, hoping that he would probably be downstairs, snoring away cozily on a sofa after days without sleep.

"Joel?" It only managed to come out as a squeak. I brushed off the fear that picked at my neck and headed downstairs to see for myself. I whipped my head to the right and reluctantly went into the living room, praying that I would find him there.

No luck.

_He probably went out to take a bathroom break, the comfort room in this house is as good as shit, anyway._ I thought nervously. I had realized that without Joel, I was completely terrified of being by myself. The howling wind was still audible, perhaps maybe a bit _too_ audible. It filled up my ears until I couldn't take anymore.

I yelled aloud to fight against the volume of the wind. It was unbearable now, I covered my ears with both hands and squeezed my eyes shut. Gritting my teeth as I prepared for the worst.

...

...

But it never came, the only aftermath was silence. I removed the hands from my ears and dared to open one eye, expecting to see hallucinations I instead found myself in the same place that I was in. I looked out of the window, there were autumn trees and colored leaves in lieu of the frozen landscape that I had seen just minutes ago.

"Oh, man." I let out a breath. _That was creepy as fuck.  
_

Shortly thereafter, the door nearing the living room bolted open and I yelped in surprise. I found Joel in his red checkered plaid that he found in a men's department store a few days ago. He had favored the shirt well, but it was nothing compared to his summer outfit.

"I heard yellin'." Joel huffed, it sounded like he ran a mile to get here. "What happened?"  
"Nothing." I replied, but he gave me an unconvinced look.  
"I... I just saw a rat run around..." I lied. "It freaked me out, that's all."

"If I'm not mistaken, I thought you weren't afraid of rats." Joel lifted an eyebrow. "We sheltered in an infested one a month back, you didn't scream 'bout it 'til now. One of 'em even crawled on you while you were sleepin-"

"Wait," I raised an eyebrow. "A rat crawled on me and you didn't even bother_ telling_ me?" I said, officially appalled by the fact that a rodent sat on my stomach.  
"I have now."

I shuddered. "_Eeugh,_ okay. That totally gave me the heeby jeebies." But moving on to what was at hand, I looked at him worryingly. "Where the hell did you go?"

Joel allowed himself into the house and stretched his arm. "Bathroom upstairs ain't working, but there's always nature's way."  
"I thought so." I muttered, _my guess was right._  
"What?"

"N-nothing."  
He looked at me briefly and gave out a half-chuckle, running his fingers through his fading hair to relieve an itch. "Strange kid." he muttered.

Over the past months, Joel and I had surprisingly opened ourselves a little more comfortably to each other than before. If we did something that wasn't related to surviving it was either him or me creating the awkwardness. But as the days went on I guess you could say that we kinda got used to each other.

"Anyway," he said to break the silence, Joel walked over to the living room and grabbed his knapsack that rested on the couch. "We're headin' to Illinois as soon as light breaks by tomorrow, best get your gear up and ready, alright?"

"Why not now?" I asked him, picking at the sleeves of my black thermal.  
"Nah, Clarks Hill's decent enough to say the least. We'll see if we can scrounge up some of those treats and comics you told me about later." A corner of his mouth tugged sideways and my eyes twinkled around. He knew my fondness of comics, and I imagined the possibilities of finding a new issue to add to my collection.

"Go on, head up and get ready." Joel said as he broke my trance.  
"Okay." I smiled and climbed up the steps, as I was up halfway he yelled something from below.

"Oh, and, wear something else other than that shirt, would you?" he reminded. "The weather's gon' get a lot nippy this time of year."

I looked back and nodded at him promptly, mentally ridiculing Joel for his choice of words. I hurried up the stairs with my palms brushing against the wooden handrail. My feet ached after each step and eventually I lugged myself to the bedroom.

I eagerly kicked my sneakers off and threw my weight onto the old mattress, covering my face in its cushions as I sighed loudly. I flipped sideways and stared at the beige ceiling above me blankly, the imaginary squiggly lines that hid near the corners of my eye bothered me, I never really got the chance to ask about what they were in fear that I would be called demented.

But still, Joel's words nagged me like how a mother would nag their child: annoyingly and frequently. I grumbled and got off the bed, humming a tune as to occupy myself with something else to keep me away from boredom. I grabbed the backpack and hopped into the mattress again and sat cross-legged, zipping the bag open to sort out its contents.

My stash of comic books were neatly placed way at the bottom of my pack. Packaged strips of beef jerky were tucked into the front pockets along with dried mangoes that I had grown to like. My main pack consisted of clothes, a water bottle and artifacts: the gun, the comic books, the letter, the toy robot, the pun books, and-

Oh, shit.

..

_Where was it?_

My stomach churned as I checked the backpack wildly, desperately in search of the small keepsake. _It couldn't be lost, no way. It was always in my backpack, it had to be there._ I told myself, rummaging through the contents of my pack. My eyes eased to rest as I found a glint of metal shine on the sides of the pockets.

"There you are." I smiled, grabbing the metal chain and bringing it up.

The light from the outside reflected its base. The dried blood due to the hardships from before had stained the pendant and its infamous Firefly logo, I subconsciously flipped the tag to its side and her name was imprinted on the metal.

_**Riley Abel -**_ **000129**

"Oh.." I whispered out, barely audible. It had been a while since I held the chain, but seeing it gave me a nostalgic rush as the feeling softened my heart and insides. I closed my eyes and imagined her, that smug-of-a-look she always had, her idiotic bravery, her goofy smile, her _everything_. Even until now, I missed her like hell.

"I haven't forgotten about you." I said softly, grazing the imprint with my fingertips. "Nor will I ever." I balled up my hand into a fist, clenching the tag tightly in my palm.

"I promise."

* * *

**-JOEL-  
8 HOURS LATER**

The dreams were occurring again.

Joel had already lost count at the amount of nightmares he had for the past month. He found himself carrying the girl in his arms underneath the pale moonlight, limping away from the monstrous creatures.

"Dad?" she yelled out, clinging to his forearms as if it depended on her life.

Joel assured her safety, but how could he had known, when he already knew the outcome of the girl's fate?  
Because no matter how hard he tried, he still believed. He still believed that somehow the dream was a reality, and maybe he could have saved her from the truth. And in doing so would ultimately save Joel from himself.

But no matter how hard he tried. The girl always died. Each nightmare was different and horribly unique, he had witnessed her get shot or eaten. Or murdered and carved. The imaginary screams felt too real, it was too much for the poor father.

They ran up a slope, brushing past an ambulance that was already so familiar to him. And before his feet could collapse under the dirt, a round of shots were fired at his direction. He was sure that he had died, or so he thought.

The inhumane monsters fell to the ground behind them, and as Joel readjusted his eyes he spotted a military personnel, his flashlight blinding both the girl and father for a short period of time.

He begged the man for assistance or to let them past. The soldier kept his distance from them, his fear crawling up to the back of his neck as he aimed the rifle at the both of them.

Accuse whatever you'd like to accuse, but he was following orders from his superior. The man couldn't possible know better. He fired away at the two and Joel had lost his grip, the girl rolled away with a scream while he fell to the ground and down the slope.

But another gunshot rang out and the soldier fell on the ground, the life in him had already been drained away as Joel saw a pool of blood circling around his head. Tommy appeared from the side, his pistol shaking nervously as the smoke came out from the gun.

But Joel remembered, he remembered the events to happen next. He quickly turned his head around to expect Sarah on the ground, her hands tightly wrapped around her bleeding abdomen.

Although to his horror, it wasn't Sarah who laid on the ground,  
It was another girl.

"No..."

Her auburn hair was dark against the moonlight, and her lower red shirt was soaked thoroughly in blood. She winced and struggled through breaths as she coughed up some blood, making Joel flinch and hurry to her as fast as possible.

He jabbered several words, not one of them entering his mind as he only focused on keeping pressure on the bullet hole. But the girl was in too much pain, he lifted her up carefully. Hoping to take her inside the ambulance to dress her wound.

All of a sudden, the cries of pain stopped, Joel looked over at Tommy, though he was nowhere to be found. He returned his gaze back at the pale-faced girl, the striking scar that resided on her right eyebrow no longer felt vibrant. Joel shook his head and called her name.

"Ellie?"

He called her once, twice, and then several times. She didn't respond, her eyes were open, but the soul was not.

No one cared.

In utter disbelief, he wept, he wept at the terrible loss. He cradled the girl in his arms as if she was his own, the tears fell down his cheeks and had landed on the back of her shirt. He could no longer take the nightmares, it was too much already.

And as Joel woke up from the horrifying dream, it came to his attention.

He was afraid.  
He was already getting close to Ellie, he couldn't trust himself to bring her to the Fireflies unharmed. It was too risky.

And he couldn't afford to lose another daughter again.

* * *

** So basically Joel is scared of losing another loved one, and since he's already opening up to Ellie and getting close to her, he's afraid of losing her because of his own faults. This is where he decides to ask Tommy to escort her for him, since Joel cannot trust himself to do it.**

**I don't know this chapter was long and I'm friggin glad I got that over with, expect another chapter with the same length as this one! I hope you all enjoyed, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated.**

_(oh and for y'all who are wonderin how leon's new look is like ur answers are linked to my profile page huehuehue)_

**That's all for The Alternative. I'll see you in the big two 'oh!**

**-Taco**


	20. Opened Scars

**Author's Note:**

**12/21/14: LOWER PART IS RECONSTRUCTED HURRAY**

* * *

**¸,c¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Twenty: Opened Scars**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**-ELLIE-**

We'd been heading west faster than I had expected, Illinois wasn't much of a difficulty to cross; but of course, the road to Wyoming wasn't necessarily easy. We had spent so much time trekking that neither of us could tell the weeks that had gone by, it felt like a blur.

A really, _really_ long blur.

The frigid air was a foreshadowing of winter, and I quivered a little as I brought up the hoodie's collar closer to my neck. I hugged my sides awkwardly as I stomped through the piles of leaves, casually putting my foot deep into a nearby pile and kicking it back up in beguilement. The leaves shot straight up, reaching my waist until it fluttered back down again to the ground. I giggled frivolously until Joel turned to me, his brows were scrunched together and his lips were pursed.

"Ellie," he said in a monotone voice. "Pick up the pace, alright?"  
"Right," I replied in a disconcerted manner. "Sorry."

He gave me a slight nod as he turned forward again, trudging through the steep hills and trees that were blocking our way. I lagged behind tiresomely, the air was starting to get heavy as we traveled upward.

But my mind was wandering off somewhere else, Joel had been acting differently ever since we were in Clarks Hill. By the time morning broke on the second day, he looked so detached from the real world that his emotions became indecipherable. Sure, our _amazing_ friendship hadn't faded and I still felt comfortable being around him, but there was always a feeling at the bottom of my stomach that he just wanted to... _desert me_.

Of course he wouldn't, I wasn't just some burden to him, was I?

I left my own question unanswered as I realized that Joel was calling me, his voice acting like a bullet that disrupted my thoughts. I whipped my head upward to find him several meters away from me, his feet were firmly planted on the cement.

We finally found the road.

"This should lead us to Jackson, you ready?"

I ran up the hill and joined him, there was a faded sign that slanted slightly to the left that indicated the route towards the city_._ I looked up at Joel and casually placed my hands on the insides of my pockets, rocking my heels back and forth as another gust of wind blew past us.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

It charged at them. Its long, ragged nails attempted to claw at their skins as it gave out another horrid screech. The Infected pinned them down to the floor with a massive force that stunned them from the impact.

Ellie couldn't react properly, the shock from everything that had happened maimed her senses as she started to feel light-headed. But the Runner gave out another cry as it flung its arms desperately at Riley. Her foot was on the creature's stomach to constrict it from collapsing on her and devouring her whole.

Now focused, the redhead squirmed her way out of its grasp, struggling to get on her feet. After recovering from the blow, she looked back at Riley, her chances of surviving were now a grim 50/50.

_Oh, crap._ She frantically looked around for an object that was decent enough to be called a weapon. Much to the girl's dismay, there was nothing nearby but a crude wooden plank.

_Screw it, it's better than nothing._

Looking back, Ellie found the Infected's vile mouth on Riley's right arm. A short burst of adrenaline rumbled in the pit of her stomach as she heard Riley give out a panicked yell. Without thinking, the younger girl ran towards the Infected and swung the plank at its back as hard as she could, the collision shook her hands terribly and she staggered around to keep stable.

But the creature released the grip as it craned its neck to her direction, obviously not happy about what she did.

"Oh, _fuck _ _me._" Ellie groaned, preparing to attack again.

It stood up and gave an aggravated howl, sprinting towards her with a famished look. She closed her eyes, swinging the plank down again—this time breaking it into two. Unfortunately, the blow was futile, and the Runner immobilized Ellie's movement as it pushed her effortlessly to the ground.

In that moment, the only feeling that she could perceive was fear. Until now, Ellie could still smell that repulsive stench it gave off, and the way it looked was so abhorrently real that she would soon get nightmares from the face it wore.

But as she fought for survival, the other thought that lingered in my head was Riley's safety, and how would she react once she got her face ripped into shreds.

**THUNK**

The screams abruptly stopped, and the only thing that filled the girl's ears were the gurgles of the impaled Runner. As Ellie looked behind it, she found Riley's shaken shadow cast over the Infected's. Its neck was pierced brutally by the broken half of the other wooden plank. The creature fell forward with a large thump, its punctured throat was now oozing out blood like a mini-fountain.

"Oh, fuck . . ." Ellie said, struggling to get on her feet. "I . . . I think you did it."

But the panic hadn't faded yet, she stared at her hands to check for bites, and there was nothing. She browsed the sleeves of her jacket, _nothing_. She examined her shoulders and face, absolutely_ nothing_. There wasn't a single scratch or bite mark on the girl's skin. Ellie blinked several times, making sure that she wasn't dreaming.

"I don't know how it didn't get me." she muttered, shaking her head. Her stomach was starting to untwist itself, and her mind was slowly clearing up, Ellie wiped the sweat off her forehead from all the exhaustion, whatever happened definitely set her adrenaline levels off the roof.

...

"Shit." Riley suddenly cursed. The redhead whipped her head to look at her, another feeling of anxiety filled up her insides.

_What now?_

"What?" she jabbered. "What is it?"

She clutched her right arm so tightly that it looked like it would fall off if she were to let it go. Ellie didn't understand her drift until she eventually traced her eyes to the sleeve, a portion of it was torn apart.

_Oh, fuck._

"Y-your arm . . ." she mumbled, the fear creeping up on her once again. "Did it _bite_ through your sleeve?"

Ellie's panic levels were going off the charts now, but she couldn't show Riley. The younger girl tried to outstretch her hands to examine the sleeve herself, but Riley withdrew her arm back in a split second before she could get the chance.

"No," Riley replied. "It didn't. There's no way."

Still being the stubborn bitch she was, Ellie obviously didn't believe her. She reached out for her arm again, this time, she wasn't so willing for her to draw it back.  
"Let me see." she said.

"Ellie, there's nothing—"  
"Let me"—she grabbed her arm and gripped on it like a brace—"see!"

Afraid of what was going to unfold, she reluctantly rolled the sleeve back until her forearm was exposed. Ellie raced her eyes around her skin, analyzing it thoroughly like a scanner. She held her breath as she expected the worse, but it never came.

...

It never came?

...

"No bite." Riley said confidently, unrolling the sleeve back up.

Ellie bent down and exhaled heavily. "Oh, man . . ." _Oh, man_ indeed. Against it all, she hadn't been bitten. She hadn't gotten herself killed. It was miracle that'd unfolded itself in the middle of an alleyway. Ellie couldn't believe their luck.

"What'd I tell ya? I'm good." she said triumphantly, Riley glanced back at the corpse and sneered. "This _fucking_ thing ruined my damn jacket, though. Do you know how much I loved this—"

But Ellie couldn't care at all about her jacket or how much she loved it. The fact that she was still standing in one piece relieved me her much, she had no idea where this newfound feeling developed from, but she didn't care. What she was about to do would most probably change her perspective on this particular girl.

And without a single thought; Ellie hugged her, she wrapped her arms around Riley's neck like a little idiot. Ellie felt her shoulders stiffen from the close contact, and for a second she thought she would reject the act and push the girl away.

Just like everyone else, they'd push her away. There wasn't much trust or affection that Ellie could put into anyone. But when it came to Riley, it was different, all the previous hate that she had towards her have been erased permanently from her thoughts. She had no idea what she was feeling, they were hoodlums for crying out loud, Ellie Williams was not much of an affectionate person.

And instead of trying to push her away, Riley sighed. It wasn't a _you're-such-a-sap _sigh, it was a relaxed type, a comforting type. And for some oddly reason that made Ellie tighten her grip around her even more, and Riley didn't object, not even once.

But it hadn't ended yet. The older girl unexpectedly returned the favor by doing the same, her arms were enveloped around the redhead's waist as she felt her head snuggle ever so _closely_ to hers. The feeling sent a shock of butterflies in her stomach as they silently stood there, hugging each other like fools for the longest amount of time.

"Yeah . . ." she said sheepishly, breaking the stillness. "I guess that _was_ pretty scary, huh?"

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
****2 HOURS LATER**

"So tell me, Ellie," She grabbed a serving spoon that laid prostate on the table. "When was the last time you had some actual food?"

With that, the metal lid of the pot opened.

Steam arose from the opening, like condescending water vapor about to ascend in the sky to become these fluffy, white clouds. It was the sort of smell that'd been hard to describe, but it smelled fucking fantastic. It smelled like actual cooked food. Like mashed potatoes.

_Mashed potatoes!_

My olfactory senses were freaking aroused.

"By the look on your face, I'd say you haven't had any in a long time." and she laughed softly. Maria, with her serving spoon, dove the utensil in to the mash of holyfuckingvegetables and scooped up a generous portion of it. She placed it on my plate, and I grabbed my spoon eagerly.

_Chow time._

As soon as I would have delved in, Maria stopped me.

She winked, "You're forgetting the best part."

The best part?

Bringing out a sauce boat filled with a thick, brown liquid, Maria presented _it_ to me. It.

_Oh my goodness._

My gawking eyes felt like fainting. "Is that gravy?"

Maria nodded. She poured the sauce boat's contents on the top of the mash, and for a moment, I thought saliva had already been dripping down on my lower lip.

The outcome of my lunch looked like a really, really lowish yellow-white volcano with brown lava erupting from it and spilling on the sides. It looked like real food, like something my stomach could be able to digest. It looked goddamned delicious.

"Bon appétit." replied the woman.

I dove in.

The sublime zest of the combination between potatoes and gravy showered my tastebuds. My God, it was, like, nirvana. Who cooked shit like this anymore, really? Definitely not Joel. I'd been living off of unappetizing, almost-close-to-decomposition canned goods for months. And here I was, enjoying a meal that Maria made as if she had been my culinary savior. _Bon appétit_ indeed. I kept stuffing the paste in my mouth, wanting more, more, more.

"You mentioned that you were from Boston, yeah? You're a long way from home." Maria whistled, clearly ignoring my wolf-like eating manners.

"_Home_?" I scoffed, between my food stuffing ordeal. "I beg to differ."

I guess, in fairness, that it'd been the closest thing to a home than it could ever be. Home is a subjective little word, home is place that you know in your life that would be the only place you'd be eager to get back to. Boston wasn't like that. Boston wasn't home. Boston was living oppressively, Boston was a community full of military grunts and insurrectionary fools. Riley and I were a part of those fools.

It was what got one of us killed.

...

But I digressed.

"I suspect that you and Joel've been on _quite_ a trip." she declared, crossing her legs from below the table. I stopped eating and shrugged. The memories of summer had stained my thoughts, or blemished a part of me, really. It was surprising—_really_ surprising—to know how I'd been standing in one piece all these months of what the fuck.

"Even before Joel, it's already been a trip." I said, chewing and stuffing and eating the comfort foodstuffs in my mouth.

She faced me.

"He's been treating you well?"

My eyes trailed back down to my edible volcano.

"Yeah, although you should ask him that instead, if I were you."

There was a faint chuckle. A chuckle that seemed out of place, that seemed forced and uncouth. It came from Maria, and as she and I ate our meals in silence, she looked ahead inattentively, subconsciously twirling the fork in her hand every now and then.

...

"Tommy told me about him," Maria said, "he showed me a, uh, picture from Before."

_From Before._

I looked back up at her.

"He looked so . . . different, you know? And happy. Back then, his daughter—"

She stopped.

And I stopped. I stopped and so did everything and everyone on Wyoming, on Earth, and in the galaxy. Because of what she said.

Did she really say that?

"His _daughter_ . . ?" I murmured, it was under the delicious air of mashed potatoes and gravy. But neither of us could bother with eating.

Maria turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "He hasn't told you?"

I shook my head.

"Oh."

...

"What . . ." Suddenly, I wanted to know everything. Wanted to know about Joel. About his freaking daughter that I'd never heard about; about his life from Before. Even if it hadn't been any of my business, I wanted to know.

I needed to know.

"What happened to her . . ?"

She pursed her lips and twirled the fork again, like it was one of her strange habits. The air changed, my appetite for gorging myself in fantastic cuisine dishes had faded away, leaving a biting craving for buried knowledge.

"Come with me." she said.

We exited the room, and out towards a place with people dozing off on bunk beds. Maria walked over to a bag, uncovering something hidden beneath it.

She pulled it out, I felt my breath hitching.

"Here," said Maria, "look."

I looked.

...

"Oh."

And it was a photograph.

No, these weren't the typical photographs that you'd see in abandoned houses slash apartments, the typical photographs that contained faces of people who you didn't know and would probably never know. This was different. Entirely different. It was a photograph of a man, smiling, his arm wrapped around the neck of a young girl's in a way that a father would always do. They were in a field, a soccer goal stand sitting at the rear. The girl, in the picture, had a blonde bob. Her grin was illuminating as she held up a trophy on her left hand, a peace sign on the other.

The man was Joel.

I'd never seen that man in the picture. Never seen him so young, so . . . different.  
I'd never seen him smile that way.

"Is she. . ?" I looked at the girl again, holding the photo feebly. "Is that her?"

"Yes." replied Maria, solemnly.

...

"She, uh, she died. Twenty years ago."

Oh. _Oh._

My eyes noticed that his watch was intact, and my mind started to unwillingly fit pieces and pieces together.

"Wasn't that the beginning of the outbreak?"

After a pause, Maria nodded.

"Tommy said that, um . . . on the first day of the outbreak, they attempted to escape Austin. There was chaos everywhere they looked, buildings, fires, explosions, people eating people. It gave him nightmares. Back then? It gave all of us nightmares."

A tableau started crafting itself in my head.

"Her leg got broken, so Joel carried her, all the way until they were on the freeway. A soldier came. They thought they were safe. They weren't."

Silence.

"They were shot at. The soldier . . . he—"

She didn't need to finish for me to understand what had happened. She didn't need to continue, I didn't _want_ her to continue. What was more to tell? A solider shot at them and she died. Leaving Joel daughter-less and traumatized for two decades. It was tragic. It was tragic and frustrating and unfair and wrong and horrible.

For once in my life, I could sympathize with him.

"Her name was Sarah, my supposed-to-be niece. She was only twelve. And she'd stay twelve forever."

I handed her the photograph, and she returned it back to the bag. Little did she know, however, that as soon as we would return back to the mashed potatoes, I would have stolen the picture from her.

I didn't know why I'd done it, but I did.

...

...

I was silent as my hunger started to fade away. It was clear to me now, why Joel had been acting like this, it made sense. The thought of it being a man—our own kind—who killed her was horrendous, it made me feel sick to the bone, it made me want to throw up. It was an awful feeling, and I couldn't imagine Joel's struggle in all those twenty years without the company of the only treasure he ever had.

What Bill said was right,

_It's people who you had to be afraid of._

* * *

**-RILEY-**

"Jesus."

The corpse of a dead Clicker was on my body. We laid horizontally on the floor, its stench reaching me and making me gag.

Leon appeared shortly thereafter. He was that striking, troubled little teen that tended to save my life more than I could count. He had the pistol in his hands, the weapon that was used to shoot the Infected that was now on me, its scent reeked like a dead and regurgitated rat.

Pushing the body away, he helped me on my feet. I grumbled a thank-you and rubbed the blood off of my face with a soggy towel, tossing it away shortly after. There wasn't much use for the thing and I wasn't a big fan of washing my own clothes.

We said nothing. We rarely said anything, anyway. After the incident, things'd gone quieter, with jokes and childish insults replaced with ambiguous stares and deadbeat voices. Sure, we had some fun moments, but they were once in a blue moon, and considering the upcoming weather, I wouldn't want to struggle through with the attitude we had now.

As I rummaged, I felt Leon's stare fixed on to me, his gaze made me shift awkwardly from the thought as I continued on organizing.

...

"Twenty-four." Leon spoke up suddenly, his mouth formed a straight line.  
I turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Twenty-four what?"

"The amount of times that I saved your ass," he said, matter-of-factly. "And still counting."

There was a halfhearted chuckle, a shake of the head, and the return to organize my belongings. I stuffed all the clothes that I had at the bottom and piled everything else by size. I wore the bag back on, its weight doubled on my spine and I grimaced as a result.

Pulling the map that we'd scavenged some time back, I set it on a table. "We should head back to camp and go for the Indianapolis QZ, shouldn't be more than a two hour walk from here." I stated, my awesome geography skills had never failed me yet.

Leon didn't look convinced.

"Riley, we fucking crossed Pennsylvania within a fortnight. What makes you think we'll reach there in two hours?"

Well, he had a point.

"I was sick." I mumbled sheepishly, exiting out of the dissipated cabin.

"Sure." He rolled his eyes as he followed my lead. "We don't even know what part of west that guy was talking about."

"You're awfully unmotivated today, aren't you?"

"And you're so terrifically optimistic, thinking that we'll reach Indianapolis without getting our ass dealt by bandits. Stsh."

You see what I had to deal with?

This pessimistic, cold-stoned boy who had killed his alter ego? The boy who had hidden the friend I knew was still there deep inside him? He was gone. And I hoped, I hoped, even as I was constantly arguing with him and threatening to break his knee, I hoped that he'd return. Old Leon. The old friend I wanted back.

Life was a bitch.

We walked on the pavement, overturned cars littered across the road which we had previously looted. The sun was hiding somewhere behind clouds of white, a cool autumn breeze gushing past us and making us shiver.

"God, I hate the weather." he muttered.

I nodded, guess there were some things that both of us could agree on.

...

"You know," spoke Leon, "sooner or later, you're gonna have to tell me more about this girl we're so desperately chasing after."

I shot him a look.

"I mean, we're going cross country and putting our lives in a huge risk so you could, what, run off with her?"

I stopped walking and turned to him with a resentful expression on my face, the wind blew again, but this time it had a different force to it than before.

"_Run off with her?_" I scoffed. "What do you take me for? You think I'm not taking this seriously?"

"The guy in Boston said that she was with a smuggler. Not that I'm curious about it, but are you and that Allie chick—"

"Ellie." I corrected him, eyes narrowed.

"Whatever." He swatted the air with his hand. "But the point is, why the hell are the Fireflies tied with you and Ellie?"

"Leon, look. Let's just talk about it when we get to the QZ, okay? I'm really not in the mood to—"

"Could you quit fucking stalling and avoiding my questions for once?" he yelled, his voice alarming me. We stopped in our tracks, and his electric eyes sported a thousand volts. "The least you could do right now is to answer them, otherwise, this whole journey's been nothing but pointless!"

"_Pointless_?" I retorted, "Newsflash, Leon, I didn't strap you to my back and forced you to come with me." The cold grew unnoticeable, this unwanted heat overcoming it like a warm front. Leon's jaw hardened as he moved it slightly. We were both in the middle of the road, throwing knives at each other with our eyes.

"You think I have anywhere else to go? I don't have a choice, Riley." he said softly, voice irate and remorseful. "I lost my only family because of _you_."

...

The last words were barely audible, and he pronounced them with such fierce that I couldn't believe that I heard them come out of his mouth.

It was a truth I didn't want to believe. Because all this time, I'd been trying to convince myself that the only ones to blame for his father's death were the hunters in Springfield. That things just happened in the wrong place in the wrong time, that none of it was on me.

"It wasn't my fault—"

"If we didn't rescue you when we found you on those rocks, he might still be here." he spat, his words digging in my skin like lethal venom. "You think you have it better, don't you? All optimistic and trying to get on my good side? It's not gonna work, Riley. I try to hide it, I try to pretend that I'm not affected, but my life's been _nothing_ but miserable ever since you stepped into our lives—"

I slapped him.

One regretful, painful slap on his scarred cheek that made him pause his injurious words.

I didn't want to do it, I didn't mean to do it, but I did it. And believe me, it felt like an impulse, like someone else had done it, like I was watching from afar.

"You don't fucking know me, Leon." My eyes hardened. "You don't know the shit I've been through, and you don't have the goddamned _right_ to tell me that my life's easier than yours."

He continued to glare at me.

"You think I have it easy?" I told him. "You think that I haven't lost people too? People that I loved, that I cared for? You're wrong, Leon. Wrong."

I pushed him.

"You're fucking _wrong!_"

Something broke.

"We've both lost people, we've both gone through hell—we're both _fucking orphans_!"

At least, for him, he had time with his father. At least he stayed by his side as he took his last breath. At least he died with _dignity_.

My parents didn't share the same fate as his.

"Because I lost my parents too." I whispered, teeth clenched. "Both of them. When I, when I—"

The ferocity in Leon's face quickly resided as a new, cryptic one was scrawled on him. He was silent, he hadn't uttered a single word that it felt like time had frozen if it weren't for those occasional wind gusts. The muteness was so incredibly ear-piercing.

"My father, he was, he was infected. I remember waking up and just . . . seeing him _right_ _there_. Him and my—my mother, they . . . "

They were right there. In the living room. With my mother on that old, tattered recliner chair like she'd been strapped on it. My mother, who would have her beautiful hair in a bun, with her brown eyes, with her favorite denim plaid. All gone. There were just screams left of her, just red.

And my dad, well, he was just . . .

"He was just. . . _on_ her. . ."

And he was different. So different. I couldn't see the color of his eyes anymore, because they were filled with red. My father, with his yellow-green eyes that would bright up my whole word. My father, with his deep, warm voice and his broad shoulders that I always sat on. He was gone too. It was just a doppelganger of him. A copy. And he had looked so _pained_, with those bulging veins striped along his body, and his clothes stained with the blood that belonged to _my_ mother.

My father was gone.

There was just a monster, and he had been ripping my mother apart without remorse, and . . .

". . . and he just kept going, and going, and _going_ . . . I—"

I couldn't move. Because I couldn't believe it. Even if my mother's screams had drowned out in her own gurgles. Even if I could remember every petty fucking detail those five goddamned years ago. I couldn't believe it.

"And then he . . . he saw me and I couldn't move."

A gun had been laid on the table. And it seemed like the key to end the nightmare, to end everything. I'd lunged for it.

"I got the gun from the table." My hands were shaking. Everything in me was shaking. "And . . . I aimed at him, I aimed at him, and I . . . I—"

I remembered it echo.

_BANG,_ just like that. And then I felt like it hadn't been enough.

"I kept shooting him, _over_ and _over_ again. Shooting and shooting and—"

The first time the sounds of a gunshot had ever filled my once delicate ears. In that moment, it felt like all my innocence had faded away.

My father's body had collapsed.  
My mother hadn't been moving.

That was when the realization had gotten to me.

". . . and it was too late."

I'd been too late.

...

The military had arrived shortly after.

"I lost both of my parents that night." I murmured. "And until this day, I blame myself for taking too long . . . maybe . . . maybe if I woke up sooner . . . my mother would still be alive."

Leon stood up, and his expression was _almost_ sympathetic. He was still silent, deciding whether or not to speak up.

"I swore to Ellie that I wouldn't leave her, that I wasn't going to let anything happen to her. But guess what? We got fucking separated, I don't even know where she is. Hell, I'm not even sure if she's still alive." I shook my head, laughing at my own misfortune. "Ever since my parents died, I tried to not care for anyone, to not love anyone the same way I loved them. I was scared that I'd somehow lose that person, and I'd _never_ be able to forgive myself if that ever happened."

I sighed at the ground, taking a few seconds to analyze what I'd been saying. Looking back at Leon, only now did I notice that his eyes had returned to those warm but sharp colors. No longer did he have electrified blue ones, but different ones. Ones that I hoped they'd return, ones that belonged to his alter ego who I thought was dead.

"I'm sorry about your dad, Leon. I really am. But it wasn't my fault, and you know that." I told him, my fists were tightly clenched. "You have to understand why I'm doing this, and I promise you that I'll explain everything once we get there."

"And don't ever tell me that you have it worse." I said softly. "Because you have _no idea_ what I've been through to get here."

* * *

**-ELLIE-**  
**2 HOURS LATER  
**

Hidden Corral Pines.

It was a ranch, located northeast of the dam, a place where I had decided to run off to.

Why, you ask?

...

Because Joel wanted to let me go.

...

I'll give the opportunity that I have now to tell you that it hurt. Deep inside, protected by my skeletal ribs, was my heart. And it _hurt_. It hurt because I thought that he wouldn't be like the others. Hurt because I was naive enough to think that he would be different. I mean, of course he was different, no other man in my life could be able to live that long on borrowed time. No man—or person, to make it more general, other than Riley had ever made me capable of caring for them. And it truly, unequivocally, staunchly hurt that he had the intentions of leaving me to Tommy.

I guess it also disappointed me. Because I knew he was better than this.

He knew better than to drop me off like cargo and be on his merry way. He knew better than to practically bring me across the country, only to stop midway and depend on his own brother to finish the job. He knew goddamned better than to walk into my life, make me care for him, and leave without a proper farewell. It was selfish. It was unfair.

...

It was like Riley all over again.

"What do you _want_ from me?"

To be honest with Joel, I really didn't know.

"Admit that you wanted to get rid of me the whole time!"

And it might have not been because I was this annoying, foul-mouthed fourteen-year-old who bugged him with puns that belonged to my deceased friend; but because he'd started to care for me. It was doubtful, but who couldn't admit it? If he hadn't cared for me, why did he bother bringing me all the way to Wyoming? Why couldn't he leave me as I slept, deserted and left to fend for herself?

He wanted to get rid of me because he cared for me, it was evident.

And it scared him.

Sam and Henry weren't that much different than Joel and I, so perhaps the similarities made him think. Perhaps that one day, in our daily routine, I would get killed due to his negligence, and he wouldn't forgive himself if it'd ever happened. Would he shoot himself, just like Henry did? Would he be able to look at himself in the mirror? Would he become like Bill, forever alone and stubborn?

It was a risk he didn't want to take.

And in my conclusion, he wanted to get rid of me because he was afraid. Afraid that I'd end up like Sam, afraid that we wouldn't make it to the Fireflies if he led us there himself.

I concurred.

"I can take care of myself—"

He countered.

"How many close calls have we had?"

_How many times had we gotten out unscathed?_

"Well, we seem to be doing alright so far."

"And now, you'll be doin' even better"—his eyes flared—"with _Tommy!_"

Of course. Tommy. A man I hardly knew. Don't get me wrong, he seemed like a guy with good intentions. A good faith. But hell, who's to say he was capable? Who's to say that he'd be able to handle the upcoming events if I went along with him? Who's to say he would survive the journey? What about Maria, his wife—

Maria.

...

Instantly, the story she'd told me over the course of lunch this noon had lingered in my head for quite a while.

I don't know how I did it, but I crossed the line. I rebelliously stepped over my boundaries, pressing on his buttons and personal sides like a stubborn child. I told him about Sarah, a girl that I knew little about but her death. Crossing that line had made me want to regret it.

"Maria told me about Sarah, and—"

"_Ellie,_"

...

His hazel eyes grew cold, his jaw firmer.

"You're treadin' on some . . . _mighty_ thin ice here."

Something was biting him back. Something that would regularly visit him as he slept, something that would remind him of his sufferings, that made his voice quiet and cold.

So I tried to make it up to him.

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel," I told him, "but I have lost people too."

I did.

I lost everyone I had cared about.

Typically, one would imagine that he'd consider what I just said, and he'd probably empathize with me, as I did to him. I wanted his frigid eyes to melt, wanted his uptight frame to loosen, wanted him to tell me that he understood, that we all had our losses, and that he would apologize for trying to send me off.

None of that, though, ever happened.

And instead, I'd been attacked with one of the most emotionally caustic things that any human being can say to another.

"You have _no idea_ what loss is."

It was right then and there, in Hidden Corral Pines, that I had felt a part of my heart shatter into irretrievable pieces.

...

How could he say that to me?

Did he forget about Tess? About Sam, or even Henry?

How could he sound so ignorant?

Something sparked within me, and before I knew it, I was standing before a bridge in Boston, overlooking at its side in search for a brown-eyed girl hidden deep inside the rapid water currents below. Back then, I couldn't seem to accept it. And now, facing Joel, I couldn't seem to accept his words.

What position was he in to tell me what I knew and didn't know?

"Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me."

My mother. My friends. Geoff. Marlene. Riley. Tess. Sam. Henry. They were gone. My mother was dead, Tess was dead, Sam was dead, Henry was dead.

They were names that had tallied themselves in a scoreboard of remorse. Names that belonged to people who I thought of as friends.

One of them being more than that.

...

Riley Abel.

But she was dead.

She was dead, and there was nothing I could do about it. She wouldn't come back. Not even if I cried myself to sleep in the first days after her abrupt culling. Not even when I hoped and hoped and hoped and hoped that she'd make it out and catch up to us before we'd leave Boston. Not even if I held her pendant in the palm of my hand from time to time, and certainly not even if I asked her to stay, only to have her killed a week later.

I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to grab the photo of him and Sarah from my backpack and throw it at his goddamned face.

Because how ignorant could he be?

Every single one of them had left me.

Every.  
Single.  
One—

"—fucking except for _you!_"

_You._

That was Joel. With his despised attitude and stubborn soul. I never thought that I'd stop resenting him, but eventually everything I knew about him was wrong. He was different. Inside of him was something else. And it was something I would never understand.

How the hell did he do that?

How did he open me up again?

To think that maybe, just maybe, this was the chance that the world'd owed me. Because Riley had made me feel safe._ Joel _made me feel safe. _He_ was the one who gave me a gun to ensure security, _he _was the one whose aura acted as an armor bubble around me. _He _was the one who was there for me. It was him, him, him. It was just Joel and Riley who had done something like that.

And I couldn't let him leave, too.

"So don't tell me that I would be safer with someone else, because the truth is, I would just be more scared."

The truth is, we were both scared. Only one of us was more willing to admit it.

But Joel, on the other hand, would do anything in his power to deny it.

...

"You're right."

Something caught itself in his throat. He pushed it down with all his might and turned to me with different eyes.

The next short seconds damaged me more than I could ever imagine.

"You're not my daughter," Joel said, and it felt like I was being stabbed by a thousand knives, felt like he'd swept up all those irretrievable heart pieces and blew them all on my face. "And I sure as hell ain't your dad."

...

"And we are goin' our separate ways."

...

Because of that, I learned that words didn't just hurt you.

They broke you.

* * *

**Well damn, that was quite fascinating to write.**

**As always, read and review! Thank you so much for the support, I'd love to hear the feedback! I'll see you again in Chapter 21, I got a few things cooking up for you guys in the next :O**  
**-Taco**


	21. Stumbled Upon

**A/N post-script.**

* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-One: Stumbled Upon**

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* * *

**-ELLIE-  
**

Fall was gone.

There was just white.

Winter.

It had occupied the land in a quick, silent matter. And yet its arrival was lethal. The season had proved to me that nature was impassively relentless. Nothing could stop it.

It was ruthless.

And I felt helpless. Unable to aid myself.

The small, shallow sources of freshwater had frozen over. Trees that used to bear fruit were no longer an option. Hands that were so accustomed to the heat were too numb and stiff for any sort of movement. Creating fires became a risk, and footprints were more than obvious in the snow. Clothing attires were unmistakably thin and ineffective.

Everything I had wasn't enough.

It had already been hard, to think that I could care for myself at such a grueling season of the year. That I could sleep well enough. That I could fend off the bandits and loot abandoned areas. That I could eat little and be satisfied. That I could just_ get by._

But having an injured companion along with you does not bode well.

His impalement was unnerving. I'd never seen Joel that vulnerable.

He needed warmth more than I did, and offering him the only sleeping bag I could find was not easy. He was immobile, and so I had resorted to lay his wrapped, shivering body on an unhinged portable bathroom door, tying ropes around him and attaching them to Callus' saddle. After stitching his open wound, I sought out for shelter, eventually happening upon this empty resort by the lake.

The houses were fit for winter, sure, but most of them had already been ransacked and looted. There were beds whose blankets and pillows had been robbed, cabinets and pantries with nothing but cobwebs sticking out at the corners. The most supplies I could find were too little. The houses were nothing more but walls and roofs.

But I found a place.

It seemed enough to get by.

Now I was sitting by Joel, watching as his chest uneasily rose and fell, his lips slightly quivering. The basement was cold, and the cemented floor even colder. In an attempt to warm myself, I wrapped the jacket around me tighter, lying down and scooting myself closer to my companion.

The cold still pressed on.

My face was stinging, my hands frozen, and my lips so chapped that they bleed.

I didn't care.

I had the antibiotics. I had to make him well.

We needed to move.

Away from this place.

Away from David.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

"Get down."

"What—"

"Shush. _There . . . _Beyond the bushes."

Leon's confused eyes followed mine, and they landed upon a small wooden lodging, surrounded by the snow-encrusted forest.

"I know," he whispered, slightly irate. "We already saw this cabin from yards away."

"No," I looked at him sternly, my finger cautiously pointing at the window. "Look closer."

We watched the dirtied glass pane for a moment, and a figure from within appeared, pacing inside the room.

"Oh."

We were hunched behind the bushes, the powdered snow that tousled with the wind was an additional bonus to our makeshift camouflage. We studied the lodging's surroundings, noticing the unlit campfire by the side.

Leon's shoulders brushed mine.

"You think he's got company?"

"Only one way to find out."

We started to near the lodging, our backs low and feet cautious, eyes wary for any nearby noisemakers. The winds seemed to be against us, as it bickered and forcefully whipped our jackets around like it was trying to dissuade. Notwithstanding the cold, we pressed on, and eventually reached close enough to the cabin — our bodies just inches away from its wooden exterior.

Leon was the first to press his ear to the wall to listen.

I followed up.

". . . be shootin' rounds in no time, boy's a fast learner."

It was male. The voice between tenor and baritone. His pronunciation obviously from southern roots. I assumed he was young.

(One of the drills that I underwent during my time as both a Firefly and cadet was to describe a person's profile to the best of my abilities. Obviously, it'd worked well.)

We continued to listen.

" . . . ain't worried 'bout that, but just imagine the look on Ma's face by the time we get back'n she sees that gun on his hands. He's still . . . "

Another male. Baritone voice. Also southern. Assumed to be older.

We snaked to the left, arriving at the foot of the door. Our breaths felt like they were anticipating something.

" . . . seriously, kid's gotta watch himself. You want him hidin' behind our backs all the damn time?"

Leon's eyes found mine.

And they were not shaking — nor were they anxious. His eyes had just been looking at me. Steadily. Readily.

I exchanged the look.

And then our routine started.

My conscience began to shut down.

What occurred next became a blur. Our guns were out. Safeties off. Leon's hand was on the doorknob. Something swung open, and then two figures looked to our direction. I could see nothing but the expressions on their faces. Surprise. A look of casualness simply draining into panic. One of them barked something, but I paid no attention — our plan was to just do the routine, like we always did.

There was a blur again, a whirlpool of voices and movements. Now the two men appeared—kneeling on the snow outside the cabin. Leon handed me something that seemed like rope, and I tied their hands behind their backs. My conscience seemed to be saying something, but I would hear none of it. My mind had to run on static. Our goal was to take what we needed. We had done this before, and we would do it again.

Slowly, my lucidity had been acquired.

I realized that I was standing, surrounded by snow, facing a pair of kneeling figures. Beside me was Leon, his eyes narrowed.

We had dragged the men outside. I could identify them better — one was in his twenties and the other older and bearded. Both blond-haired. Leon's hands were holding guns. (One was his, the other was that of the older man's.)

"You pull anything, and you're dead." Leon's tone was unnervingly nonchalant, aiming the two guns at the men respectively. He turned to look at me.

"See if there's anything else in the cabin, I'll watch 'em." I said, tossing my head to the direction. Leon nodded and handed me the guns as he went inside.

I aimed both guns at their foreheads. The older man bit his lip.

"You don't have to do this,"

It was always the same sentence. The same tone. The same plead. _You don't have to do this._

"We're just taking what we need . . . we don't want any trouble." I replied, my eyes trailing to the younger, more aggressive man. He had cold dark eyes, his breath dampening the air like a flying cape.

"Y'all've got some fuckin' nerves for a pair of kids." he growled, his shoulders hunched. "Comin' in our cabin, demandin' us to give you our weapons, _stealin'_ what's rightfully ours—"

"_Hey._" the older man said, his eyes glaring at his companion. He stared for a second or two, before angling them apologetically to mine. "Easy, child, he just doesn't think as often as he speaks."

The younger man shot him a glaring look, his face flashed with annoyance and arising anger. "Are you fucking kiddin' me? You're afraid of some_ kids?_"

"They're _armed_."

"And they're still kids. You think one of 'em's got the guts to kill a goddamned man—"

Leon suddenly kicked him from behind. Hard. The man fell forward, and a garbled cry of pain flew out of his mouth as the older man watched in shock. Leon was yet to be satisfied, and he pulled the man back up on his knees by his collar, their faces fiercely close.

"You sure about that?" he snarled. His blue eyes were narrowed. "Because I'd be glad to prove otherwise."

You'd expect the man to stay submissive by now.

He didn't.

He slammed his forehead on Leon's instead.

Suddenly the man was on him, his hands somehow freed from the ropes as he continued to attack Leon. Shouts and spits and curses were flying everywhere, zooming over my head and scattering around the forest. They rolled around violently in the snow, while I'd been too stunned to take action.

That was when the man went on top of Leon and grabbed for a rock. He raised it high in the air, attempting to smother it forcefully on his face.

And then I tackled him.

I held him down long enough for Leon to regain his senses. I could feel the man's entire body trying to push against mine. He pounded his fists against my back, and all I could do was bury my face in his chest as I held my grip on him tighter. Hands pried my arms away from him, and I was so sure they belonged to Leon's.

It was the older man's.

He tore me away from him and shoved me across the snow. Cool slushes of white kissed my cheeks as I landed on my back, only to find Leon standing some meters away from me with a gun aimed at the younger man.

The shot sounded louder in my head.

And then suddenly the loud, angry noises had been quietened. I trailed my eyes reluctantly to where Leon aimed, and found the younger man lying still on the ground — there was a bullet hole on his forehead. The snow below him eagerly drank the blood, and his eyes were wide open and mouth hauntingly agape.

The older man fumbled away from the corpse, completely in shock.

Leon sloshed through the snow and aimed his gun again. The older man froze and raised his hands in the air.

"Please," he said, his voice breaking. "Please . . . don't. You don't have to do th—"

The second shot shook the air, and he fell quickly to the ground.

...

It was always the same sentence.

The same tone.

The same plead.

_You don't have to do this._

...

"You okay?"

I turned to Leon shakily.

"Yeah . . . "

He helped me up to my feet.

We had collected their belongings — taking the food and supplies from the cabin. The whole time, my mind was in shock, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Look," Leon spoke, as soon as we were about to leave the site. "What we're doing is—"

A rapid sound of footsteps from behind interrupted him.

"Infected?" I whispered.

"No, this one's too quiet." He grabbed my arm. "C'mon, to the bushes."

We hid. The noise of the footsteps started to crescendo and it sounded like someone running. We ducked our heads low, anticipating for the figure to appear from the foliage.

...

A boy emerged. Pale-skinned and short and out-of-breath, his face drained color when he recognized the bodies lying in the snow.

Shit.

Everything that happened next was grim. He fell to his knees at the sight and began sobbing. The boy remained in that position for a few moments, before he reluctantly mustered up the emotional strength to stand again and look at the two bodies in front of him.

Holes in their foreheads. Blood soaked in the snow. Eyes wide open and skin as cold as the weather itself.

And he lost it.

He fell to his knees again — crying and shaking and refusing to allow the reality to sink in. The absolute sight of him was awful, and it was only at that time when I noticed the color of his hair — blond. Like the other two men.

My heart dampened.

"Come on," Leon said, tugging at my arm with unwillingness. The boy's wails were beginning to grow so loud that it had become painful to listen. I took a steady breath and faced Leon, his face lost of all its hardness.

"I know," He glanced at the boy and shook his head. "But we have to go."

It took three more minutes before we actually left. His cries were still audible in my ears.

...

"How old do you think he was?" I asked, when we were hundreds of feet away.

Leon bit his chapped lips and ran a hand through his hair.

"No more than ten."

A sick feeling lurched inside my stomach.

No more than ten.

**x**

"This can't be it."

Leon lifted his head up curiously, the contours of his face emphasized by the shadows and fire.

We were back at our own camp. Nightfall had already arrived.

"Killing people . . . " I continued. "Stealing from them . . . when did _this_ become ordinary?"

"Have you been asleep these past twenty years?" he scoffed, sitting across from me as he ate his cans of beans. "Since the damn world fell apart."

"No."

He returned his glance to me.

"You weren't like this before, Leon." I said. "You and your father, I know you were good people . . . I know that you _still_ are_._"

There was a silence. I hugged my sides and inched closer to the campfire, my gaze curiously watching Leon. I eyed the scar on his cheek — his own reminder for the parent he'd lost.

"My father was a good man," he mused, eyes focused on stirring the plastic fork in his can. "Ever since the outbreak, he'd been helping folks with his medicine and all. He loved what he did, and lots of people were grateful." For a moment there was a faint, tiny smile on his lips. It lingered for a while.

Then it was gone.

"He ended up helping the wrong type of person," His voice was solid, with no hints of breaking. "and it's what's gotten him _killed_."

Leon looked at me now. His blue, electric orbs stern and hard. Shadows danced on his face, and I could hardly recognize him.

"You can't be a good person in this world anymore, Riley. Because there is no good or bad. You just"—he shook his head—"You just _survive_. And that's what we're doing. Surviving. We aren't bad for killing those people, we had no other option."

Leon set the can of beans aside and leaned in forward, just enough that the fire barely licked his face. I could see the flame's reflection in his blue eyes, his stern face was looking directly at me.

It sent chills.

"We are _survivors, _Riley." he said flatly. "Anyone who isn't that ends up _dead_."

* * *

**-JOEL-**  
**29 HOURS LATER**

The snow was blinding him.

In his peripheral, Joel could only spot the white freckles whizzing past him, the frosting wind bit at his skin, and not even his beard could insulate the cold. But he saw it.

The fire.

His eyes had widened and suddenly everything became clearer, the restaurant was glowing a bright orange, battling with the frostbite air. Pops of embers flew and settled on the snow, only to be engulfed by the white slush that came down and tackled it.

Joel's frozen feet moved, they moved faster than he thought possible in such freezing conditions. His legs cooperated in rhythm and he found himself calling Ellie's name, only to be muted by the intense howling of the wind.

She was in that burning restaurant.  
He knew it. He _knew_ she had to be in there.

So he ran even harder.

Upon arriving at the entrance, the fire's smoke had clouded his vision. What seemed to be the doorway became a pile of unapproachable flames. Joel cursed under his shivering breath, his hazel eyes racing around the boundaries of the restaurant to find for an entrance. The fire roared and soared higher in the air, puffs of smoke escaping out of the building to attain freedom in the sky. He didn't know if he had gotten every last one of those men who were hunting him, but it was apparent that the smoke would arouse attention.

He had to act fast.

Joel rounded one side of the building, eyes squinted in search for a possible entrance. The snow covered his view again, and when there was a brief respite, he found the dull metal gleam against the white surroundings — an emergency door. Perfect.

When he hobbled over, feet almost slipping as they encountered an unexpected sleet on the ground, Joel rammed his shoulder on the knob-less door, and it swung open. He doubled over, gritting his teeth before straightening up again. There was no time to wince at the pain that was erupting from his abdomen. Ellie was in there and it was all that mattered.

He was inside now, he had to find her.

The environment had changed abruptly, from the biting ice came the suffering flames. They clashed together, heat against cold, fire against snow. His cheeks were hot and smoke was filling his lungs, coughing haggardly, he stumbled around to regain focus.

Suddenly, he heard the metallic clangs.

The _whumps._

He heard the shrieks of a man, only to be replaced by those of a girl's.

Joel's stomach wrenched.

_Ellie._

He sprinted toward the sound, and the metallic whumps increased in volume until it pounded his eardrums and shook his legs. Among the tables and the floating embers, Joel spotted a figure.

He froze for a millisecond.

There she was, on top of someone, punching them — no, hitting them with what seemed to be . . .

A machete.

Whoever it was, she was making a cake out of them.

Slicing,  
dicing,  
cutting.

Each swing, each thrust looked painful and forced, and Joel was taken aback by such ferocity. Something that he had never seen in her until that very moment.

He didn't remember, but the next thing he knew, he was holding her. Ellie screamed in his grasp as she dropped the knife, demanding to be let go, not knowing that her assaulter had been her guardian. Her companion. Joel could only jabber words that he hoped would pass through her raging head.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Joel turned her around, cupping her face that surprisingly had tears streaking down her bloody cheek.

"It's me."

When Ellie started to recognize him, her breath hitched. She was in disbelief of what she was seeing. It was impossible, _how could he be standing there?_ How could he be right in front of her, holding her and being there for her as if he'd never been hurt?

How could he be here at this given moment? Just after someone had intended to _violate_ her, how could he be up and standing?

It was only then that she realized how emotionally and physically pained she was.

How was _she_ still alive?

"He tried to—"

Joel pulled her in, to wrap her in his arms. "Oh, baby girl . . ." he whispered, his head resting on hers.

_Baby girl._

That was it.

Ellie's barrier had been breached, and she started to sob on his shoulder. From exhaustion, from everything, from trauma.

David had traumatized her.

He shattered every last glass of innocence left in her fragile state of mind. He ripped her apart from the world she once viewed before, and was thrown into a foreign one — an unfriendly one. One that made her shiver against the cold, one that broke her ribs and clenched her throat. He altered her view of the world permanently.

She didn't realize that Joel had a warm texture that hadn't been there weeks before. Before, he had that twang of coldness emancipating as his aura. Before, he was just a cold, shivering body with a stitched wound. Before, he was pitiful, weak, and vulnerable.

There was blood on her face, blood that didn't belong to her. Blood that permanently stained her soul, lingering as a painful reminder for the things she had been through. He had never seen her cry, not once, not once in their journey did she ever break past that emotional barrier. But here she was, her shell had been broken and she was left with a quivering figure and a vulnerable heart.

They were both vulnerable.

And in that restaurant, it seemed that everything else became inconsequential, and there was stillness between the two as they sought for each other's comfort beneath the embers and cold.

Nothing but two things now.

Just them.

Just warmth.

* * *

**-RILEY-  
MONTHS LATER**

"So," Leon said, chewing on the bone of a rabbit's leg. "Wyoming, is it?"

I had laid the map on the floor. There was a rickety wooden lodging by the side of the road, so Leon and I had decided to eat lunch inside while planning the next state to visit. We were fairly supplied. We even had roasted rabbit for lunch, something that I thought we would never have on a daily basis.

A cool spring breeze entered throughout the house, and I smiled to myself. South Dakota was an interesting state. Earlier this week we had passed through a site I'd seen in documentary films and history textbooks. Mount Rushmore didn't look as beautiful as it had been several years in the past, the stress of the earth and the man-made catastrophes that occurred near it had caused the faces of the presidents to erode. Even some vines started to grow on it.

Nevertheless, it was a beautiful site. Leon and I had decided to set up a campfire as we faced the structure. Daydreaming and theorizing things that might've happened before the apocalypse.

"What's wrong with Wyoming?" I said. Leon shook his head and shrugged in-between chewing. "Nothing. I just never really heard anything about it."

I chuckled. "That sounds like good news nowadays."

"True,"

"Alrighty then," I huffed. "We leave for Wyoming in three days, any violent reactions?"

"I'll miss South Dakota."

"Bullshit, you'll miss Mount Rushmore."

Leon blushed. "Possibly."

As you could tell, we were getting our old relationship back. I was extremely grateful for it. Despite the grim things we had done and had continued to do, Leon had slowly warmed up to me, his sardonic and witty attitude regaining as each day passed by.

"Okay. Wyoming, three days, Leon likes Mount Rushmore. Did I get that right?" I asked, folding the map until it could have a snug fit in my backpack. Leon stood up and threw the rabbit bone into the bushes outside of the house.

"Yeah, let's go." he said, putting on his backpack as we headed out to explore.

This was the third state in the northwestern area we were heading to.

It had been months.

I still hadn't found her.

* * *

**-JOEL-  
DAYS LATER**

He stood before her, he held the unconscious and fragile girl in his arms. The car was the one way trip to freedom, to finally leave everything behind in the dust. He would've entered the vehicle by now if it hadn't been for Marlene, her gun was aimed steadily at Joel's head.

She had tried to negotiate with him, to try and persuade him into doing the _right thing. _But was sacrificing the girl in hopes for a possible vaccine really the right thing? Even if the vaccine was successful, was the world really going to transform into a better place? It was already fucked in the first place, finding a cure for a dead Earth was like trying to disinfect the wounds of a corpse. Ineffective.

Marlene neared him carefully, bringing the gun away as a sign of peace. Joel mentally ridiculed her, she should've shot him when she had the chance. He felt for the handle of the gun in his back-pocket, waiting for the perfect time to bring it out.

Four feet away, three feet away, two feet away. Now was the time.  
The gunshot echoed throughout the parking lot, and Marlene's face had been drained of all life as she fell on the floor, her abdomen leaking blood as fast as an overflowing water hose.

Joel ran for the car, all while carefully nestling Ellie. He laid her down in the backseat of the four-seater as she snoozed away in a drugged dream. She was completely oblivious to the events around her — she wouldn't know, and would probably never know what had happened just meters ahead of her.

He walked over to Marlene with an emotionless face. He wasn't proud of his deeds at all, but he needed to do it for the sake of Ellie's safety, to completely rid the Fireflies of tracking them down. He needed to do it, he had to.

"Wait," she pleaded. "Let me go."

"Please."

Joel had heard those requests a thousand times, all ranging from people that he had never gotten to know personally or would ever know, since it mostly came from hunters and cannibals. He wasn't certain of what Marlene would do if he'd ever let her go. She would most probably disappear from the face of the Earth, but he was as sure as hell that it wouldn't be the last time he'd see her.

Joel tightened the grip around his pistol, and he looked down at Marlene with deadpan eyes. They exchanged looks, his being detached and unfeeling while hers being desperate and despondent.

"You'd just come after her."

He pulled the trigger.

...

_It's over, now._ Joel thought.

It was all over.

* * *

**THREE DAYS LATER  
**

"Hey, wait." she called to him.

Joel turned around, his look away from the settlement after facing the girl.  
The settlement. Tommy's.

They were so close, and despite Joel's hidden impatience, he humbly allowed her to speak up.

As Ellie watched his preparation to listen, her mind had been blocked, somehow forgetting what she was going to say. Frustrated and tongue-tied, she wrung her wrists together and sighed. It had been three days. And the redhead knew so little. The second she had awoken after falling into the water and getting unconscious, she had found herself lying in a car, garbing a surgery gown that she did not recall putting on.

Why was she wearing a surgery gown?

When Ellie had queried, Joel had told her—in the most nonchalant tone—that the they had found the Fireflies._  
_

**x**

_"Turns out, there's a... whole lot more like you, Ellie,"_ he said. _"People that're immune— it's dozens, actually. Ain't done a damn bit of good, neither."_

...

_"They've actually st—"_

That pause.

...

_"...They've stopped lookin' for a cure."_

...

_"I'm takin' us home."_

_..._

Home.

She closed her eyes tight, then opened it up again. A disbelieving action. Complete and utter repudiation.  
Her heart had burned with such pain upon hearing those words.

It had devastatingly hit her with cataclysmic force. All those months of hardships, pain, sorrow, remorse, _hell_, all for searching for the Fireflies. For redemption. And for what?

Nothing.

Her memory flashed before her when she closed her eyes during that car ride.

_Riley._

...

_Tess._

_..._

_Sam and Henry._

Their deaths were all in vain.  
She would not avenge her best friend's sudden end, or Tess', or the two brother's. They were all flushed down the drain, to be forgotten. The upcoming water had burned her eyes, and Ellie turned to face the car seat, her mind blank and not responding.

Everything else started to shut down around her. Her surroundings became insignificant.

...

_"I'm sorry."_ Joel mumbled, and it seemed to pierce her through rather than comfort her. His words were like blades, and it emotionally pained her to feel its sharpness, its edge. There was disappointment, hurt, and anger present in the girl's veins, but she kept it all inside. She faced the car seat, refusing to look at Joel.

Refusing to believe his words.

...

And on that point, she let the silent tears flow.

...

All for nothing.

**x**

As Ellie pondered through the recap, she looked back up at his companion.  
He was not the same man when she first met him.

This was a different person. He was but a shell of what he used to be towards her. From cold and brooding to paternal and loving, Ellie was stunned at seeing such transformation. A transformation that had ultimately decided on whether or not Joel would deliver her to the Fireflies without causing trouble.

But you know what had happened, don't you?  
You all know.

If she wanted to spill whatever she needed to spill to him, now was the right time.  
She had to tell him. Before it would eat her up inside. She had to.

"Back in Boston," she said, looking up at Joel, "back when I was bitten,"

...

"I wasn't alone."

Joel shifted slightly to the right as he continued on listening. Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to find the words on how to lay it down.

"My best friend was there," she continued, "and we didn't know what to do."

"So. . ." she trailed off, glancing away from him for a minute.

Ellie remembered quite a lot. It was one of those days that definitely fit the word _bipolar_ in its description. One minute, she'd found herself crying, and the other, she had been on the brink of choking out a gut from laughter. To describe it? It was a roller coaster.

A really, really, loopy roller coaster.

". . .We decided to make the most out of it, since she figured that I was going to die in a matter of days, why not do it with the best of memories? She wanted to stay, even if she knew I was done for. She said she'd rather . . . you know, be all poetic and just lose our minds together.

"Eventually, we ended up meeting Marlene . . ." she mumbled. "And she figured out that I was unaffected by the bite."

_Marlene._

Ellie thought of the last time she had seen her, and wondered why Joel hadn't brought up the fact that he hadn't mentioned the woman during his explanation back at the car ride to Jackson.

Not once.

But Ellie shrugged off the thought momentarily, focusing back to the story.

"We were originally deployed without the smugglers, but . . ." Ellie muttered, remembering the shot that claimed Riley's life. "She got . . . killed . . . during a hunter incident. She got blasted off of this bridge, and fell in the water. After that. . . I, uh, was forced to get smuggled out instead."

She remembered it all. Riley's look of mystification, the blood draining out of her face, the thrashing and settling of water, the fall, and the collision. It seemed all too fictional to her, that Riley wasn't living. No matter how hard she tried to accept it, she couldn't take the fact that she was gone. That she wasn't standing beside her, ready to embrace their new lives in Jackson.

"I'm still hoping that _somehow_, she made it out."

"Ellie. . ."

"Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die." She gulped. "And then it was Tess, and then Sam."

He attempted to solace. "None of that is on you."

It was funny, though, just several months back, he had been mentally blaming her for what had happened to Tess. And despite none if it being true, it still felt like the poor girl had been held accountable. She kept it in, she was dealing with survivor's guilt. She was physically and mentally affected from everything.

So what position was Joel in that gave him the right to say something that sounded so ignorant?  
Ellie sighed. "No, you don't understand—"

But he cut her off. Patiently, understandably.

"I struggled _. . ._ for a long time with survivin'." he stated slowly. "And you— . . ." He tripped his words, and Ellie found him gliding his fingers across his broken watch.

Sarah's gift.

Somehow, it made the girl's heart ache knowing that that was the last thing that resembled his only daughter. A broken watch that had been given as a gift countless moons ago, something that Joel had told her during the wee hours of springtime.

"No matter what, _you keep findin' something to fight for._"

An exasperated sigh escaped Ellie's lips, the man was expecting this.

"Now, I know that's not want you wanna hear right now, but it's—"

"Swear to me." Ellie interrupted him, her green eyes were now glued onto his.

...

"Swear to me that everything that you said about the Fireflies is true."

...

There was a short hiatus, his breath hitched on the last second. But it'd been too late.

"I swear."

Too late.

And she stood there, gawking at him.

She didn't know what to feel. He had gone to his business to lie to her, as if shrugging off her story like it'd been nothing, and _beguiled _her. No, she couldn't be fooled. She was too wise and too witty to know any better than to believe him. Against it all, she couldn't feel betrayal when she wanted to, she couldn't feel anger when she needed to, and she couldn't push him in frustration when her body craved to. There was a pinch of trust she had for the man. _Trust_. Out of all things possible, it had to be trust.

How could she be able to trust him, after everything they'd been through, and the man had still lied to her?

What did he mean, anyway?

She contemplated on his previous words, _to find something to fight for.  
_And then suddenly, she realized it. Like it was waiting for her to discover the epiphany, something clicked in her head.

Joel was talking about _her._  
Of course he was referring to her. She knew that. But this newly acquired knowledge had hit her with different force. It came to her attention that Joel was _living_ because of her. For her sake and his own. It became apparent, that after several months of trekking together, bonding together, that Joel had stopped viewing her as an escort. He viewed her as something much, much more bigger.

And when his hands had trailed to touch his broken metal watch, she knew it.  
He viewed her as a second daughter.

Not for the sake of replacing Sarah, not because he promised Tess to look after her, and certainly not as a burden that he was obliged to carry on because she didn't have anywhere else to go.

But because he loved her.

He loved her more than anything else in the human world that he had gone to the troubles to kill everyone and anyone in the hospital that served as a possible threat toward her. He loved her with the same amount that he felt for Sarah, his only child.

He saw her as family.

And most surely, Joel could _not_ afford to lose another daughter again.

So when Ellie looked up at him and saw his hazel eyes that reflected those of her green ones, she could see only him. And she realized that no one else other than Riley had absolutely cared for her more than the world itself. More than their own lives.

It hit her with even more force when she devastatingly loved him back.  
Despite her resentment toward him for lying, despite everything they had been through, she loved him like a father that she never had. Suddenly, she understood why she felt that trust. Like it was an instinctive reflex for her to put faith in him. She didn't know what had gone on in the hospital when she was unconscious, but she had a hunch that the lie was _protecting_ her from something.

Could it be the survivor's guilt, the possible notions of the Fireflies, heck, it could be from _herself._ He was stopping her from giving up her life for an uncertain cure, that Ellie looked so willing to do anything to relieve the guilt she'd been trying to suppress ever since Riley had died. To make up for leaving all her previous companions behind in the dust. The guilt she had because everyone else had died and she didn't.

Compensation.

Unaware, she looked beyond his shoulders, and she saw the view of Jackson. Beautiful, fortified, Jackson. It was waiting for them. Tommy's settlement represented as their unlikely home, a place for them to start anew, a place for them to leave their past struggles behind and to embrace the new life.

They were home, and Ellie would be damn lying if everything they had been through was all for nothing.

She knew she was wrong.

It was for their new life.  
Their new beginnings.

...

"Okay."

* * *

The two neared the gates, and though they anticipated it, they both flinched as a bullet appeared and grounded the grassy floor in front of them, the boom sounding off into the air like a bomb.

Ellie backed away in swift pace, caught off-guard from walking in such a hypnotic state. "Jesus—"  
Joel caught her in her feet, pulling her back from where the bullet ended up in. The ground advertised an artificial hole, the bottom base of the bullet poking out like a head.

"That's close enough."

A man emerged from the the towers in the gate, sporting a hunting rifle that blinded Ellie's vision for a second.

"Look," Joel muttered, "we don't want no trouble, we just—"

The man cut him off. "Hey, Josh Brolin, hands in the air."

Joel pursed his lips.

With narrowed eyes, he did as told, and Ellie mimicked him from behind.  
"What's your business here?"

"Name's Joel." and he gestured toward his companion. "This here's Ellie, we've been 'ere before, just returned from a little . . . trip. Tommy's my brother, you can ask him for confirmation."

The guard didn't seem convinced; with his gun still trained on the Texan, he removed the clipped radio from his shirt pocket, muttering something inaudible for Joel and Ellie.

Upon receiving a static voice, the guard's stern face eased slightly, probably already getting affirmation from Tommy that he was indeed his brother. He disappeared from the watch tower, only to emerge at the front gates as it started to creak open. The man's brown hair was what Joel saw first.

"I'll be damned," he said, his attitude completely different from before, "yeah, sorry, I remember you two from months ago. Welcome back."

Ellie took a breath, her feet unsteady and her eyes nervous. She wasn't supposed to be feeling such timidity, but the thought of actually settling in Jackson was so... alien to her. She had never been inside, never stepped foot into the cobblestone roads to view the bustling village.

There's a first time for everything, right?

When they were ushered in, a familiar breeze that reminded them of the dam settled in and waved at their noses. The guard returned back to his station, and left Joel and Ellie in peace to ogle at their surroundings in silence. The settlement was large, larger than they thought compared to the last time they had viewed it during fall. Houses were lined up along the sides of streets. Roads were like mazes, and there were cul-de-sacs that had crops at their ends. People—actual _people_—were roaming around, chatting with others and allowing their children to frolic. Ellie spotted a young pup burst through the door of a house, only to be chased by a giggling little girl and her presumably yelling mother.

The peace was so unsettling to her that she started to shake, she subconsciously grabbed Joel's arm and clenched.  
The Texan looked down at her, quirking a brow.

"What is it?"

She didn't reply at first, Ellie steadied her shaking body and shook her head.  
"Man, it's just . . . different. I mean, look at it."

Her query had made him hesitate for a moment, and even he began to question it as well. Joel smirked, another waft of spring breeze going past them.

"Well," he said, "sometimes when you live on edge for too long, you forget what it's like to just sit down n'take a breather."

...

"I miss this, y'know." he mumbled, and Ellie looked up at him. Her green eyes were yearning him to continue.

"This... liveliness. You ain't seein' this in the Zones, where everyone's all buried in 'em buildings, their windows boarded up like it's the damn holocaust." He sighed. "You're just . . . tryin' to survive all day, and ironically, you forget how to live. Forget what it's like to wake up n'the morning and breathe in the air. . ."

He pictured a distant memory. He was sitting on the couch, an arm wrapped around his daughter as they watched the World Cup on the flat screen television with microwaved popcorn sitting on the coffee table. He could hear Sarah jeering at the enemy team, groaning when one of the goalies she resented had caught the ball. Joel was more of an American football type of guy, but watching his daughter react was probably more fascinating than the game.

An ache found itself in Joel's chest, and his eyes looked away from the view, suddenly focusing when they heard a distance voice yelling behind them.

"Joel?"

He turned around.  
Tommy stood from afar, six feet in height, his pupils enlarged in incredulity.

"Tommy," he said.

And he pictured the memory again, it continued with Tommy walking in and joining Joel and Sarah on the couch, his hair short and face shaved. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn and wolfed it down, only to be castigated by the young girl and demanded that he shared. He remembered seeing himself laughing, and after an argument about whose team was better, the three of them had watched the game in tense silence, with Sarah wedged between the two brothers, muttering every now and then at the goalie who kept catching the ball.

He didn't realize how much he missed it, to live.

And how much he missed his own damn brother.  
"Tommy." Joel said it again, much louder.

The younger sibling jogged towards him, and the former did the same.

They hugged in silence, not needing words to fill in what they wanted to say. They shrugged off the sibling rivalry, the horrible occurrences that happened between them, everything that presented negativity. Joel's exhaustion got the better of him, and he sighed and patted his brother's neck.

They had an explosive relationship, these Miller brothers, and that was putting it lightly.

"Nice t'see you again, baby brother."  
"Jesus." Tommy's voice was muffled against Joel's denim shirt. "You fuckin' worried us to death, y'know that?"

He worried himself, too.

Ellie approached the two brothers, and Tommy didn't hesitate in pulling her in for an embrace.  
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he told Ellie, and she smiled at him, trying her best not to show her own tiredness.

"Where's Maria?" she queried, Tommy scratched his neck.  
"Back at the dam, I got 'er on the horn and told the good news, she'll be here soon."

He looked back at his older brother.

"So how was it? Did you find 'em?"

Oh, of course. He was expecting this question.  
He waffled for a moment, not noticing Ellie's transforming expression.

"It's, uh, about that—"

"It's a long story." Ellie interrupted, glancing back at Joel with a familiar look. Tommy seemed to have caught on, and he raised a slightly skeptic eyebrow at his brother, who only shrugged in response.

"Right," Tommy said, "well, we can discuss that later. Need to show you around the damn place, 'scuse my manners."

Exploring Jackson, Ellie was completely nonplussed by everything. It would take some time getting used to, now that she realized that the buildings had people who _resided_ in them, people who had made their house a home. Everywhere she looked, she saw people going in and out, she couldn't believe Tommy's statement, more than twenty families? It looked like there was a _hundred thousand_ in Jackson.

The houses were lined in a fashionable way, most were slightly shabby, but inhabitable and cozy nonetheless. One house seemed to have gotten Ellie's attention, the one just at the end of the road. She looked up at the humongous view of the two-story building.

"Wow, is that your house?" she asked.

Tommy laughed, a sheepish hand scratching his neck. "No,"  
"Well, who owns it then?"

...

"I'm looking right at 'em."

Joel turned to him, dumbfounded, and his mouth dropped to form an O shape.

"What—?"

The elder brother gawked at him, then at the house, then back at him.

It was large, probably the best-looking one out of the whole block. It had a backyard, a patio, everything. There was even a well-built chimney system that would make a wonderful fireplace. The house's paint had torn off, though some of the color remained. Despite the shortcomings, it was a beautiful house, and the sheer possibility that it could be their _home_ was overwhelming.

"I got a 'lil too excited, haven't I?" He fiddled his thumbs. "We've been renovating this house for months, now. And since you hadn't returned for . . . well, we thought you were gone for good."

"You didn't need to do this for us." he said, but Tommy could only scoff.  
"Yeah, well, I do a lotta shit that don't need doin', don't I?"

With nothing else to object, Joel smiled, and it had been one of the rarest, genuine grins that he had ever given. He stretched his arm out and placed it on Tommy's shoulder, shaking him brotherly as they both started to chuckle.

"Ellie," Tommy beamed, "think you could do the honors?"  
She took no time in smiling back. "Absolutely."

She brushed past them in a childish manner, opening the door clumsily to their new humble abode. Immediately, unfamiliar sights had filled her vision, and she spotted the living room first, which consisted of a wide space that had two refurbished couches, a large rectangular coffee table, and a television.

Ellie's eyes widened.  
A television.

"Does it— . . ." She didn't want to jinx it, but she couldn't help it. "Does it work . . ?"

Tommy's response had sorrowfully disappointed her, but her excitement had repleted once she began viewing the house's milieu again.

With Joel beside him, Tommy smirked, both of them stood with their arms crossed, the elder one's head swiveled in multiple directions, reveling the sight of their home.

"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

The question caught him off-guard.

...

He breathed in, his eyes focusing on the girl as she examined the drawers and cupboards, muttering gibberish thrill as she scavenged the house like a small child. There was just something about Ellie that made him feel like he was a _father_ again, like he was capable of loving again. As he watched her, he smiled, before turning back to his waiting sibling.

"More than you'll ever know, baby brother."

"Well," He slung his arm over Joel's broad shoulders, causing the elder one to chuckle again.

"Here's a chance to live again."

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
6 DAYS LATER**

Joel and I had made an agreement.  
Well, I forced him to, anyway.

In return for hunting alone for the day, I was supposed to deal with scrubbing the dishes for the next week. I internally laughed, back in the military school, dishes were _nothing_ compared to cleaning the toilets. Yes, including the inside.

So it was a fair trade, might I say, and hunting really helped my mind stay in peace. So, after leaving without acknowledging a proper farewell to my guardian, I sped off.

I flew out of the house and to the streets of Jackson. The water puddles from yesterday's rain shower were drenching my worn out sneakers, the same sneakers that I had worn ever since we were in Boston. And as the water was kicking at my heels, I heard Joel's distant voice as I ran.

"Be back before sundown!" he yelled in a concerned manner. I threw a thumbs-up in the air as I ran, making sure that I got the message. As I zoomed past groups of people I eventually arrived at the exit gates, and Vance -one of the guards- had greeted me with a smile.

"Hunting again?"

I gave out a quick nod.

"Knock yourself out." he said, opening the gates that led to the outside.

Okay, technically Vance was keeping an eye on me, so I wasn't lying to Joel.

The day after Tommy's tour, Maria had mentioned something about hunting, and almost immediately the interest had sparked in my head. She and Joel had hunted with me on the first few days, but later on I had learned to do it by myself.

"Please don't rain . . . " I mumbled, taking my bow out.

The forests of Wyoming were incredibly huge and gorgeous. There was a lake nearing the side of the forest where Joel had promised me that the swimming lessons would be taught there. Yes, swimming lessons, I know, it was about time.

The trees were as tall as three-story houses and the abandoned cabins acted as sanctuaries. But walking ahead, I had discovered a new path that led to a different route of the forest, meaning that I could probably hunt down a lamb if I could. A lamb. Oh, yeah, that'd _totally_ be good right about now. Roasted lamb chops. Mmm. They'd served those delicacies during each end of the year back at school. The scent of minced, well-roasted meat came back to me, and my stomach started to growl.

And so without another thought, I walked through the new route, different views of scenery were shown in my peripheral and I was captivated by everything. The faint sounds of an endless water trickle were emitted to the west of me, and I followed the sound. Minutes later, I was standing before the sight of a wondrous miniature waterfall.

"Wow." I breathed out, nearing it. Wow indeed. It looked like something copied right out of a fantasy book. Red Riding Hood sort of scenery; with the luscious grass, the crystal water, and _everything_. I sat on the grass and took out my sneakers, placing them next to me as I soaked my feet into the cool and fresh water. _Oh, yeah. _

The lamb chops could wait.

Eventually, I had closed my tired eyes that deserved the rest, and the only sounds that I could hear were the bird's chirps and the water's movement. There was a faint rustling every now and then, but since I was obviously caught up in this watery nirvana, they weren't noticeable until they had grown louder.

And louder.  
And louder.  
And louder.

Suddenly, the rustles became footsteps, and before I could turn around, a hand had been clamped tight to my mouth, preventing me from breathing.

_Oh, fuck._  
So much for nirvana.

In a panic, I swirled around, trying so desperately to get whoever was assaulting me off. No use. I was stuck in place, with my wet bare feet still plunged into the cool water.

This was what I got for not going for the goddamned lamb chops.

I couldn't move my arms, he apparently had his other arm wrapped around me like an iron brace. Great. I was running out of ideas, and this guy was probably going to mug me. Hopefully, that'd be all he would intend to do . . .

And then I realized something.

I had feet.

I lifted up my left foot, bringing it down upon his shoe like that fucking mallet from the carnival Riley and I had visited all those months back. I think I could hear the bell ringing.

"Fuck!" cried the assaulter. _A-ha._

He removed the grip, both his hands finding his poor, swelling foot. Now that he was distracted, I turned around, earning me a good view of my attacker. His head was covered with a black jacket's hood, a handkerchief covered his mouth.

He was a bandit.

My bow was nowhere to be found, my switchblade had fallen into the small pond.

So, with all the remaining strength I had in me, I leaped at him.

I rode him until he was on the ground, sending two rage-filled punches at his direction. He cried out and attempted to claw at my face, his fingers gripping onto my hair and ripping strands of it off. One of his fingers collided with my mouth, so I bit on it. Blood welled and I could taste copper. The bandit retracted his finger and became submissive for a few moments, giving me the chance to drag him toward the pond. Once we were close enough, I picked him up by the collar, and plunged his head to the water.

He thrashed around wildly, and I used both arms to restrict his head from coming up from below. Bubbles were quickly rising up from the water, and I knew he had limited time. But before I could successfully drown him, someone had lifted me up from behind, giving the guy in the water the chance to lift his head up.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes giving off a shade of electric blue. My new, wondrous assaulter seemed a lot more leaner, though it didn't stop me from going easy on him.

"Let go of me, you fucker!" I yelled.

And almost instantly, his grip had softened. The guy flipped me around so that I would face him, and he had a hoodie that was draped over his head. His mouth too was covered by a handkerchief, so that the only thing I could see was his light dark skin and his brown eyes.

Wait.

I squinted at him.

...

Brown eyes.

I squinted even more.

These brown eyes weren't just your average ones. No, these were a spectacular light brown, gifted with a familiar spoke of darker shades that splintered his iris like a Ferris wheel. I had seen these kinds of eyes before, and they belonged to a girl whom I had once thought of as my whole—

No. Stop thinking about her.  
I swooped my foot down across brown-eyed bandit's leg and he fell to the ground, not getting back and only staring at me, it made my head heat up. _Stop staring at me with those damn eyes for once._

_..._

Nope, still staring. Jesus. _What the fuck was up with this guy? _And his eyes? And his everything?

The other one whom I attempted to drown was coughing loudly, and as he turned to our direction, he was just as confused and irritated as I was. He looked over at the guy on the ground, taking off the piece of clothing that covered his mouth.

"Riley, you know her or something?" he asked him, a tone of annoyance present.

My blood froze. Everything in my world stopped existing for a moment. And there we were, just two people, me and that brown-eyed boy, staring crazily at each other.

"His . . . " I cleared my throat, no use. "His name is . . . Riley?"

Brown-eyed wonder took his hood off, and did the same with the handkerchief, revealing a familiar face. _Too_ familiar.

...

Oh, shit.

It was a her.

...

Her name was Riley.

* * *

**Take a breath before proceeding to the next chapter x**


	22. Reuniting

**Chapter 22: Reuniting**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the painful little cliffhanger last time. I've read your reviews, and they are all great, thank you for the flattering compliments and helpful tips! It's quite funny to see that you guys are literally dying to see this chapter. I'm stressed and trying to make each one decent so that the wait won't be too painful.**

**Here we go, thanks for the support!**

* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-two: Reuniting**

**_¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸_**

I had found myself outside the perimeters of Jackson and inside the deep forests of Wyoming. Hunting was only one of the reasons why I had grown fond of the wilderness so much, and I thought of it as strange that Joel couldn't seem to figure out why I had ventured outside so often.

What he didn't know was that I used it as a way to escape almost _everything._ Entering the forest helped me keep my mind blank and at peace, and to flee from the memories that had mortified me until this day. It was the only place that allowed me to shut away all those things whilst I was on the hunt for game to bring back and to either sell or eat.

Everything I felt like doing, I went here. I had to tell Joel the usual excuse that I had a 'crave of hunting' and he'd buy it straight away. It was that simple, it always was. The ambiance was almost welcoming, and the air was fresh and plentiful, you'd be surprised at how different it was compared to the more cruddier places like Boston.

And yet even as I tried to use it as an escape, it seemed that life didn't want me to forget.

* * *

The girl who was addressed to as _Riley_ was still on the ground, her black hoodie was sprinkled with dew that had collected during the rain showers from last night. The boy was still near the small lake, his dark brown hair doused with freshwater. They both wore similar clothing, black jackets, light brown cargo pants that ended right before their ankles, and sneakers that looked slightly decrepit.

The girl exhaled deeply as if in awe. "Wow," she whispered. "Look at you. . ."

No.

...

_No._

"You're not real." I said, shaking my head and inching away. She got on her feet, her eyes still glued to mine.

"Ellie . . ." she said, and her voice seemed to melt as they reached my ears. More memories played through my head, more painful scars were opened, and the more I found her staring at me, the more I got frustrated.

She wasn't real.

"Get out of my head!" I yelled, pushing her away from me. Riley stumbled back but her balance hadn't wavered. The boy started to advance towards me, but he halted halfway.

"No, it's okay." she told him.

I couldn't be fooled any longer. I could no longer bear to stay in this pit and mourn about someone who was already dead. What was happening before me was nothing but a mere illusion that my brain decided to play since I couldn't move on from her death, even after a year.

She turned out to be alive after all and she somehow managed to stumble upon me on the same goddamned state? How convenient.

I didn't want to think of Riley anymore, I didn't want to be tortured and to be reminded of her death _over and over_ again. I wanted so badly for it to end, escaping your past was impossible, like Joel'd said. But I accepted it, so why couldn't it just fucking go away?

Riley started to slowly move towards me, and I backed away swiftly.

"Don't," I snarled. "Don't go any closer."

But she didn't listen. She kept on walking.

I grabbed for my backpack, zipped it open, and retrieved something that was buried deep within it. I felt for the metal links, and I brought it out to be exposed by the air. The Firefly logo was shimmering in a delicate way, the blood had still remained and was not washed ever since.

I took one last look at the pendant and closed my eyes.

...

..

..

_"Don't go. Please. . . don't. . . don't leave me."_

...

_"I'm here, Ellie. . ."_

..

..

..

_"I promise, I'm not leaving your side."_

...

I poured that memory and everything else that reminded me of her into the damn necklace. My eyes were opened now, and I started to cover the painful memoir in my fist. With all the force that I could muster, I threw the pendant at her. It hit her in the chest with a light force, and she caught it in both hands before it could fall to the ground.

"Fucking have it!" I yelled. "Take it, just leave me alone already!"

She clenched the pendant in her fist as she glanced down at it with a look of hurt in her eyes.

"Please . . ." I gave out an exasperated breath. "I can't go on like this anymore."

"Ellie—"

I shook my head. "You're _dead_!" I barked. "But you keep coming for me, you keep reminding me about it, and you're _not_ allowing me to move on!"

She was silent. Not a day had passed without me thinking about her. Riley was in every gaping hole in my mind. Dead or not, she had been my everything.

But she was dead.

Trying to forget only made it worse. The more I tried, the more those hallucinations came strolling by, hitting me in all my weak points until I was on the ground.

"I've accepted the fact that you're gone, so please. . ."

My teardrops were mistaken for beads of sweat that'd trickled down my face. It would only be a matter of time before I would break down, and only so rarely had I done it in front of anyone.

Riley stood there with ambiguous expressions. She bit her lower lip and slowly walked towards me, grabbing my face simply as if to calm my confused thoughts. My racing eyes tried to locate hers, and as I did, the same connection occurred to me when we were back in the mall, before the bite that brought all this down on me had been planted on my forearm.

"It's me." she whispered, softly stroking my cheeks with her thumbs. Her touch felt so surreal, it was nothing like the dream I had during that dreaded winter season, this warmth was unbelievably strange. I felt her breaths softly on my face, and I started to absorb all the information that'd been thrown at me in such short notice.

..

..

Wow.

She made it.

The realization left me awestruck.

_She's alive_.

I touched and traced the edges of her face in hopes for a flaw, just one flaw to assure me that I was hallucinating again.

It bore no results, and the knot in my stomach twisted more as I gazed back at those brown eyes that were eagerly greeting me with its softness, it made me feel like I was thirteen again. Like I was back in the preparatory school, enjoying an unsupervised sleepover with Riley in her living quarters.

She was always constantly chatting away while I was forced to play the role of the listener. I'd always end up staring unconsciously at her, and I'd enjoy the way her pupils moved so slightly with enrichment. And then slowly, she'd stare back at me, probably gazing at my emerald eyes with the same thought. It reminded me of how I'd so easily fallen for her, how I'd grown attached to the one person who'd one day fall off a bridge in the peripheries of Boston, never to be seen again.

Or so I thought.

I closed my eyes, allowing Riley to press her forehead to mine, and doing so pushed me to the breaking point. I managed to say her name, and she pulled me in to an embrace, breaking me down into a fit of uncontrollable sobs and emotions.

And then all the walls that I had kept up were crashing down, down, down. And it was only Riley and I in the ruins of an unforgiving world.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

Her sniffles had reduced, and now I had carefully wrapped my arms around her, savoring the embrace. Her touch was so sensational, I couldn't fathom how different it felt to hold her again. It was so.. strange.

Something'd changed with her, and I was uncertain if that was a bad thing or not. But all those thoughts hadn't clouded up just yet, because after a grueling year, after events and occurrences that I would never want to go back to, I met paths with her. How? I didn't know.

To be honest, I didn't even care. Ellie was here, and she was alive. The actualization of it was so overwhelming that I didn't notice my own tears falling down to the ground. Instead of me trying to comfort her, I ended up being the one consoled as I covered my face on her shoulder, telling her over and over again how much I've missed her. How I had to go through so much shit to meet her, and how tired I was with going through every single day without her. Without knowing how it felt like to be with somebody that I cared about.

And just then it hit me.

Not too far from where we were standing was a teenage boy, I'd met him when he was seventeen, and here he was, an eighteen-year-old orphan that came along with me in this unforgiving journey. He'd been through terrible shit, and it'd left him scars both visually and internally. I'd been so selfish to not acknowledge him in front of Ellie. But I was caught in the moment, and I only focused on the two of us as I completely shoved away anything else from my view. Including Leon.

I'm a pretty apathetic person, now that I think about it.

Eventually Ellie and I had broken away from each other, and after seeing her eye me for a couple more seconds, (laughing and half-crying all the while) she moved them onto Leon, and I was forced to turn around and look back at him, afraid to decipher his visible expressions.

But instead of seeing anger or anything that I had thought, I saw the least of my expectations. A look of amusement.

What?  
It seemed like it.

A smirk and a raised brow, his striking blue eyes met mine and he gave me a face as if mentally telling me: _This is her? We actually found her?_

I almost laughed at my own paranoia, and I was reminded to be thankful that Leon's vibrant personality had healed overtime despite his father's death and our first rocky impressions on each other. I cared about him, and I'd thought of him as my own brother. But that was when something else'd hit me.

I'd learned to love someone else. To get attached to someone, to know the consequences that they would die eventually and knowing that would inevitably hurt me, I accepted it and loved them anyway. There were only a small number of people whom I've grown to care and to love. I wasn't sure if there were going to be others coming after him.

I gave him a shake of a head along with a fragile smile. I finally found the chance to introduce the boy to her. Leon raised a brow, and he almost scowled as Ellie neared him for a more proper greeting.

Ellie didn't back away, she stated her name and offered an apology as she rubbed her neck. He crossed his arms, as if grumbling. And after an eternity of staring, Leon finally gave in, unwillingly and reluctant since Ellie basically did try to drown him. How convenient to know that these two people were eager to forgive.

Not too long after, we set up a small campsite, with Leon and I grabbing logs and gathering branches for the fire while Ellie toyed with something else. She and my companion's chemistry went better than I'd expected, let alone our reunion. I threw the logs in a center and Leon grabbed a lighter from his pack, he silently lit it up, and the small flames started to amplify in size as I watched them grow, brightening up the forest with its light.

It was nearing nightfall, and I was suspicious since it seemed that Ellie had no place to go. She appeared to be heavily packed, her red flannel shirt looked quite new, her backpack was the same as before, possibly holding new contents and ammunition that Leon and I would appreciate she'd offered if I wasn't too timid to ask.

I sat at the opposite end of where she was, nonchalantly tossing a broken twig into the fire for fuel. The flames grew wild for a a few seconds, but in those mere moments, it'd illuminated to a point that Ellie's face was glowing, and my eyes as if by instinct moved up to view her.

Her green pupils were focused on the flames, and there was something in them that made me spot just a tiny hint of terror.

Terror?

The way she looked... it was chilling. The flames reminded her of something, but what? What had she seen? A foretelling? A past memory? Did the fire just look pretty scary to her? It could be perceived in several ways, but I knew Ellie, the way she would view the world was unique.

That was why it felt so different to see her, to hold her. She changed.

She had lost something, her naivete.

Her innocence of how she once viewed the world, completely shattered, reality grabbed her by the throat, telling her over and over again how it was the exact opposite of what she thought. She lost that simple aspect, and she was absolutely traumatized by it.

Her eyes told me a million words that the mouth alone cannot tell. She'd been through hell, I could see it, but I could not relate to it. And I probably never would.

I tried to deter away from the eyes, but as the flames died down again, she noticed my conspicuous staring. Her emerald pupils lifted up to level with mine, and the fear I found was not visible anymore.

A sense of relief waved over me as I saw her smile once again. It was one of those delightful smiles a girl would give you, a small but marvelous one, one that would send butterflies in your stomach and weaken your knees.

No longer was she afraid. She didn't have those dreaded eyes anymore.  
The way she looked, it was as if I memorized every inch and detail of her face. My heart softened almost immediately, and I couldn't help but smile back.

You know, it was like early summer, whenever I looked at her, it was the time of year that I favored the most.

So when I gazed at her on that night, even if it was for just a short moment, her innocence had returned.

And I fell in love with her for a second time.

* * *

**-JOEL-**

He ran his fingers over the wooden handrail as he slowly descended from the stairs, his diminishing youth was showing effects and Joel cold only grumble at the thought. The wood below him creaked softly, Tommy and his construction crew were mainly focusing on polishing up the house instead of completely refurbishing it. It hadn't bothered him though, he lived in worse places.

On the bright side, it was a lot better than most houses. His brother'd really picked one of the less hellish homes from the whole bunch, and Joel was reminded to repay him one day for the generosity.

He arrived at the last step and positioned himself just before the staircase, his worn-out eyes darted to the door. Ellie was still out in the forest a stone's throw away from the house, it'd been some time since she fled. _Crazy little kid,_ he chuckled to himself, he couldn't be bothered to reprimand her by the time she would arrive back. He had other particular things to do._  
_

He was grateful that she'd been recovering slowly. It was a rocky process, she still had occurring nightmares, and Joel'd cursed himself to have ever left her on her own for a period of harrowing days. She didn't deserve to experience that, no one deserved to.

And then he was brought back to the lie he'd crafted. He knew Ellie, that girl, wise beyond her years. He knew lying to her was a regretful decision, her face had said it all. Albeit turning her back, she trusted him, she knew there was no truth, but she accepted it anyway.

It left him puzzled, but he went along with it. They'd walked ahead and into the village with Joel in the lead, and despite his rather audacious characteristic, he was terrified to look back at Ellie. Just looking at her commanded a wave of guilt to be washed over him and swallowing him whole.

He needed to tell her one day, the guilt would kill him first more than anything.

Once he was conscious enough to realize that he'd been on the end of the stairs for too long, there had been a soft knocking on the door. Joel snapped up and brought a hand to his face, the end of his palm feeling the bristles of his beard. He gave out a quick sigh and prodded over to the door, opening it up and to be greeted by his smiling brother.

"Hey." he said warmly, and there was a slight pause after that. "You plan on lettin' me in anytime soon?"

Until now, Joel couldn't believe how far and how well-off his younger sibling had turned out to be. From witnessing him take his first steps to seeing him administer a whole village along with his loving wife was overwhelming. There was a feeling of pride, Tommy was the only literal family he had during the outbreak, their parents had shared a typical fate.

"Yeah, come in." he responded back, returning the smile and opening the door fully.

Tommy strode in, he had a red polo shirt with his hair and beard trimmed slightly. A pistol was found in the pocket of his brown pants, it was hardly unsettling to see a gun anymore, not in this world.

"I suspect that the girl's out huntin'." he stated, knowing that the home was too quiet without the company of Ellie. Joel gave out a mellow nod in response.

"Surprised you even allowed her to run off without ya."

"Guess you gotta let 'em walk on their own eventually." he replied, leading the two of them into the living room. He walked over to the couch while Tommy found a chair and dragged it over so that it would face the sofa. They both plopped down on their seats, preparing for the conversation.

"So," Tommy started, "care to explain to me what happened?"

Joel'd asked him for a private chat the day before, and knowing the little brother, he was mostly busy on other affairs. They both agreed on doing it the next day, and the older sibling seemed quite nervous about the whole thing.

"The reason why I asked you to come over . . . I, uh . . ." he scratched the back of his neck. "I ain't sure how to lay it out for you, really."

Tommy tugged the sides of his mouth. "Take your time, M'all ears."

Joel pursed his lips as he scrunched his brows together. What was he doing? Was he really going to tell him that the plan didn't work out? That he killed all those Fireflies at St. Mary's? Was he going to tell _him_, of all people, rather than Ellie herself?

What could of person would he be?  
He found his mouth speaking before giving it permission.

"They weren't in Colorado, the Fireflies, I mean." Joel said, causing Tommy to lean forward on his chair as he rested his arms on his legs.  
"What?" His face morphed into a worried look.

"It was abandoned, Tommy."

"Oh, dammit." he muttered. "Shit, I'm sorry. I thought they'd be there."

"Nah, s'alright. Like you said, you haven't heard from them in years."

The younger brother's perturbed expression faded. "So that's it? You went back here after that? That don't make sense, returnin' from Colorado doesn't take you months."

"It didn't end there." Joel said, making Tommy raise a brow. "There was a, uh.. recorder in one of 'em rooms at the university. Said that they all left, went off and hurried to a place in Salt Lake City. Man on the recorder called it their new headquarters . . . St Mary's Hospital, if I recall."

But oh, did he recall. He recalled every single detail.

Before Tommy could respond, Joel added a few more details. "But we didn't head out immediately. We got... off-tracked. Some scavengers were scoutin' the university campus, they managed to find us before we could leave."

He scratched the side of his cheek. "Hmph, reckon it ain't much of a problem for you, huh?"

In the early years of the outbreak, they were both hunters. Doing things none of them were proud of, they despised it. Tommy was the first to notice his sibling's ferocity, all his hard years of construction work had payed off, he was a tiger among cats. Dealing with enemies were usually not a problem for him.

But Joel only shook his head. "'Fraid they were." He said, lifting up the end of his orange plaid and revealing the horrid scar.

Tommy's face had lost its color.

"Jesus Christ." he breathed out. "The hell happened?"

"One of 'em grabbed me and got me on the edge of a damn drop. The weight was probably too much on the railing. It gave way . . . and . . .you can guess what happened next."

He leaned back slightly, trying to avert his eyes away from the ragged tissue nearing Joel's stomach. "And you're still standin' after all that . . . good Lord."

"I would've died, if it weren't for El—" Joel swallowed hard, imagining the hardships she must have faced while caring for him. ". . . for Ellie. That girl, you'd be surprised what she'd do to, to save you."

There was something in Joel's eyes, but he didn't bother to wipe whatever it was off. He stared straight ahead, not at Tommy, but at the wall just behind him, deep in thought. He couldn't imagine what would've happened if he hadn't found her in that restaurant, hacking away at a man's face, all the while being stripped away of her only innocence.

There would be no one to comfort her, no one to tell her that it would be all right in the end, that no one was going to hurt her anymore. She would be alone because her protector had died of blood loss, or worse. She'd be traumatized, and forced to survive with a mentally and physically unstable state. Joel could only shudder at the thought, it pained for him to remember.

"Winter was awful. It was hell for the both of us . . . but it's been harder on her. She—" He stopped, something got caught in his throat.

...

". . . she's got wounds, Tommy, from winter. You can't imagine the shit she's been through. I only wish they'd heal through time. . ."

Tommy decided not to press further on what'd happened, and he allowed him to zone out once more.

There was a long silence, both of the brothers assumed that everything had stood still. Tommy fiddled with his thumbs as he stared at the floor, occasionally looking up at Joel, whose expressions were indecipherable and distant. It'd been like that for so long that the opposing sibling couldn't stand the stillness any longer.

Tommy cleared his throat, making Joel snap back to reality. Blinking twice, he apologized. "Sorry."  
"Don't be." Was the only response.

No other teenage girl had reminded him so much of Sarah. And Joel had always grimaced at the slightest thought of her. But now, it hadn't stung as much as before. It didn't knock him out of his feet nor did it leave him in an unapproachable state. Thanks to Ellie, Sarah wasn't a negativity anymore, it was but a simple reminder of Joel's past. He still loved her with all his life, not a day would pass without him thinking about his daughter. And now, it was becoming the same with Ellie.

Joel set aside the thought and continued on with the story. He told Tommy how they plowed through the winter with heavy hearts, how he had to cope with Ellie's nightmares as she screamed and thrashed in her sleep, how spring welcomed them and allowed them to try and start anew. He told him about Salt Lake City, that there was no other detour but the collapsed tunnel and its rapid waters. He explained his horror as he tried to resuscitate the unconscious girl who got plunged into the unforgiving waters in an attempt to save him before the bus would completely give in.

"I thought. . . I thought I lost her." he said nervously, his hands clamped together. "Then these men popped up near the entrance, told me to drop it. But the hell was I supposed to do? The girl ain't breathin', I couldn't—"

There was a horrific pause.

"I couldn't let her, Tommy. God knows what coulda happened to her. . ."

Tommy seemed indulged, listening so tentatively like it would be the last thing he would hear. It gave Joel the confidence to talk, as he was usually the one to not explain things.

Joel told him how the Fireflies had knocked him out, and the second he woke up, his first concern was Ellie. The poor girl, he should've taught her how to swim during the gap. But how could he, when she'd been distant to him and anguished the whole time?

"Marlene was there, goddamn, we found her. I was in one of 'em patient rooms. I asked her where she was, told me that Ellie was bein' prepped for. . . for surgery."

"Surgery?" Tommy repeated.

"Asked her the same thing." He nodded. "Apparently, the fungus'd spread all over her brain, and they needed to open it up, extract it to reverse engineer a vaccine."

...

"They had to kill her, Tommy." He swallowed hard. "I. . . I couldn't let 'em..."

The younger brother's jaw clenched. "'Scuse me?"

"Marlene refused to give her up, y'know that she's—"  
"Joel," Tommy said, "what'd you do?"

"No, you wouldn't underst—. . . she'd ki—" His eyes were frantic and watery.  
"What did you do?" he demanded, almost begging.

This was it, Joel thought. He was about to drop the bomb on him. He couldn't keep it in any longer, he had to spill it out to someone, it was eating him alive. This was how guilt treated you, his conscience seemed to be affected deeply.

"I—. . ." Joel murmured. ". . .I made sure they didn't go through with the operation..."

...

"You.. you _killed_ them?" Tommy said in a whisper. Joel cringed as he nodded softly, bringing his hands to his face in an attempt to comfort himself.

The devastation hit the younger brother down and on the ground, slowly, his shaking soul wobbled back to the chair.

" . . .and Marlene?" he asked, his voice being a mix of confusion, anxiety and desperation. Joel knew how close they used to be, his brother'd been one of the loyal ones before he left the Fireflies. And he killed her. He goddamned _killed_ her.

"She'd come after her, I-I couldn't risk—" Joel lost it, he let the guilt flow out, and he covered his face in those hands that he called monstrous. "I killed them all, every one of 'em who wanted her dead. I— . . . oh, God—"

Joel felt so blameworthy, but he couldn't help it. All those lives he'd taken in the hospital, the Fireflies, the surgeons, even Marlene. They were all victims of his. They had hopes of a better world, a better life, a better future, but he had stolen that from them, there was no hope now. He buried his face deep, as if in shame of his actions. He mentally cursed himself as a selfish monster, Tommy's expression didn't help his case.

The sibling's mouth was slightly dropped, his face had said it all. He rose from the chair and placed his hand on top of it, the other was on his forehead as if he had a massive concussion. He gave out an incredulous half-chuckle, not even bearing to look at his own brother.

"Jesus. . . what the hell have you done?" he said, his voice almost arising in anger.

Joel easily stopped the silent hiccuping weeps. "I needed— I had to do what was right—"

"_What was right?" _he scoffed mockingly. "Shit, you even hear yourself, Joel? Killin' all those Fireflies, did that seem like that right fuckin' thing to you?"

"You wouldn't understand, the cure ain't even a guarantee, and they were desperate enough to think killin' her woulda solved their goddamn solutions!" Joel answered back, his voice also increasing in volume.

"_I_ wouldn't understand?" he yelled back. "You wouldn't understand the mess you placed yourself in, you didn't give Ellie up, that was your job ain't it? Fuckin' hand her over to the Fireflies? No, you messed up, instead of lettin' them get the cure, you flipped your shit and did it your way. It was always like that, givin' out tantrums whenever things didn't go the way you planned 'em to, always the hard-headed one, ain't ya? Her life could've saved fuckin' millions, I should'a handed her ass over when I had the chance—"

Joel's inner-flame had sparked, and Tommy's remark had set him ablaze. The woeful, fragile man was not there anymore. Instead, it was someone a hundred times more fiercer, more terrorizing, the one that all enemies alike had feared. He stood up in a very bulky manner, and with teeth bared, he raised his hand and swept it across his brother's face with an intense force.

"SAY THAT ONE MORE TIME," he roared, his booming voice vibrating the silent house, vibrating the whole state of Wyoming, "AND I'LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU AIN'T LEAVIN' THIS HOUSE _ALIVE!_"

Tommy's heated attitude had quickly faded, his face had gone pale except for the swollen and stingy spot on his cheek that Joel'd left. He cowered over his brother's rage, and despite being almost the same height, he felt inferior and small. Tommy had inadvertently awoken the beast that slept inside Joel, and he wished and hoped that he would collect his senses before something worse would happen.

Joel's short burst of fury had swiftly evaded, and he realized that he was petrifying the poor brother. The fire in his eyes had been doused, and he took a step back from Tommy as if to keep him safe from himself.

"You've no idea what I've been through with that girl.." Joel said much less furiously than before. "I never thought that just a year ago, I despised everythin' about her. Couldn't even try. And now, she just might be one of the only few people that I'd give my life up for. If . . . if that were Maria, would _you_ have given her up?"

It was Tommy's turn to be silent. Of course he wouldn't. Give up the love of his life? It felt like ripping your heart out and handing it over to someone who didn't deserve it. And that was exactly what Joel felt, he didn't think that the world deserved the cure, after the things it'd done to him, what it took away from him. Never would he give Ellie up, not in an infinite number of years.

"Tommy, I. . . Jesus. I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. . ."

"No, you're right." he replied humbly. Joel wasn't expecting this sudden response. "I should be the one apologizin', brother. Shoulda known better than to talk about Ellie like that. I didn't mean it. I just . . . I got caught'n the middle o'things." He was subconsciously rubbing his stricken cheek in an attempt to soothe it.

Joel gave out an exhausted sigh as he walked over to the window, placing his hand on the side of the frame as he watched the afternoon sky turn darker. "You . . . you understand why I had to do that, don't you? It ain't just for me, she needed to leave the past behind. I wanted her to start over again, have a new life here in Jackson, a life that she ain't never had back in Boston . . ."

Trapped in the metal walls of military oppression, forever to be bossed and told what to do and what not to do. What the authorities called freedom and safety was confinement and dread. Joel couldn't imagine Ellie back at the QZ, working extra hours just to get a couple of days worth of rations. Rations that people desired, what they envied. Morals weren't a problem if they were desperate for food and supplies. People fought and died for them.

But here, where you can see children freely running and roaming the streets, their laughter filling the air. Where you can find women and men tending to farms and herding livestock. Where you pass by a tavern and instead of seeing toppled chairs and broken bottles, there'd be people enjoying the time they had in the world. It was the closest thing Joel had seen compared to what civilization used to be. It was a peculiar kind of paradise, and it was definitely someplace where they could start anew.

"Yeah, I understand." Tommy said.

...

...

"How did Ellie react?" he queried suddenly, causing Joel to turn around and face him.  
"React to what?"

"When you told her what happened, she got sedated during the whole thing, right? Surely she wouldn't have shrugged it off like it was nothin'."

Joel visibly flinched at the question, and he gave out a shake of his head.  
"I. . . I haven't told her yet."

Tommy's worried expression returned again with open arms. "Sorry?"  
"Kid was stubborn, she couldn't know the—. . . the truth. . ." Joel confessed.

His face was scrunched together, poorly attempting to process the information. "You _lied_ to her?"  
"The hell you expect me to do, tell her I killed 'em all?"

Tommy placed both hands on his head and sighed. "Christ's sake, Joel. You're diggin' your own grave. She deserves t'know the truth, more than I do, more than anyone does."

He was right. But he wasn't sure how he'd lay it out to her, would he do it slowly, or all at once? Ease her into it, or just get the whole thing done with?

"I know, I just. . ." He sighed, "I'm waitin' for the right time. . . not now, not when those wounds are still fresh. Hell, arrivin' in Jackson was too much for her already."

Tommy was still, but then he approached Joel with steadiness as the both of them gazed out of the window together. He placed both hands in the pockets of his jeans, listening carefully to the yells and shouts of children playing outside, they were completely oblivious to the events that were happening in the house just a couple of blocks from them. His sandy hair shined with a glow as the rays of light bounced on his head, he turned to his right to face his brother, his deep and weary eyes were focused on the environment outside.

"Joel, you need to tell her." He rested a hand on his shoulder. "If you don't, she'll find out one way or another,"

"It'll only be a matter of time before she does."

* * *

**-RILEY-**

"Oh, so where're you from?" Ellie asked, scratching her pant leg with the heel of her sneaker. We'd been talking for a while now, and it just felt natural for the three of us to stay here. I sat on the log beside her, with Leon being at the opposite end, roasting what seemed to be the thigh of a small critter.

"Delaware. We lived in the Boston QZ for some time, though. My.. father got sick of it, so we headed out." he mumbled, toying with the stick and eating a part of the meat.

"Your father?" Ellie said, causing him to stare at the meal. The second she asked, it was regretted. She must've felt bashful, how insensitive of a decision it was to let the brainless question slip out of her mouth. I was still, waiting for either of them to speak up.

...

"I'm sorry, I—"  
"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

I heard nothing but the pops and crackles of the fire. That and Ellie's constant sweeping of the grass below her with her shoes. I could not stand the quiet, the awkwardness, anything at all that made me feel uncomfortable. Leon seemed to catch my drift, and he stood up with the stick still in his hands.

"God, my stomach hurts. I think I gotta deal with this." he said in an attempt to persuade Ellie that he was definitely _not_ uncomfortable being around her. "If you can excuse me, ladies."

Leon gave out a flaunting smile, grabbed a flashlight, and then turned on his heel and walked farther enough so that the both of us couldn't see him. I threw the inedible leftovers at the fire, and we watched the flames as they danced and fought with the air.

...  
...

"He'll be back." I reminded Ellie, just in case she had a thought of worry.

"He brought his food with him." she said, her eyes focusing on the fire. It meant that Leon wasn't actually going to take a shit, but to eat somewhere else in solitude. Possibly because he didn't like the silence either or because he knew that I wanted Ellie and me to be left alone for a while.

"He did." I nodded in confirmation.

"Your friend doesn't seem to like me." she chuckled, and it was the first time I heard her do that in a year, I acted unaffected, but inside I felt like exploding.

I shrugged. "Leon was like that the first time I met him. If he doesn't, it won't be long 'till he does."

Despite the two of us sitting together, we had little to no contact. If my leg subconsciously brushed hers, she'd move it away in shyness. Or if she had nudged my foot by accident while she kept messing with the grass, she'd apologize and do it somewhere else.

I understood how the one year gap made us feel distant, but I didn't expect it to end up like _this._

"Can you believe it, though?" she spoke up again, I kept my eyes at the fire. "You're alive, I was certain that. . . that you—. . ."

There was a slight pause, and Ellie turned to face me. Her expression was yearning for explanations.  
"How'd you do it?"

To be honest with you, I didn't know how I'd done it either. The second one of the Hunters'd shot me in the shoulder-plate, I felt like blacking out. The impact as the water collided with my back didn't help the predicament I was in at all, and before I knew it, I was a hundred feet away from Ellie. Totally unconscious.

"They saved me." I answered. "Leon and his father, his name was Darius."

Darius.

His name still sends aches to my chest as I speak. He was a compassionate stranger when I met him, and I wondered if our status would've been better if he was still with us.

"I woke up with no idea that I somehow survived. The first thing that processed through my head was what happened to you and Geoff. I didn't know where to go, or where to find you, all of that was beyond me. I felt helpless."

I grabbed a canteen from my rucksack and eagerly drank the water contained inside, the refreshing liquid hydrated my dry mouth and allowed me to continue on talking.

"And then this kid was sitting across from me, watching me as I stirred around. I knew him later as Leon, and Darius arrived from tending the horses not too long after. They were a friendly pair, but I kept cautious. Turns out they found me on the rocks beside a river stream, and that they'd been bringing me along with them two days after our little separation. I almost flipped when I realized how far we were from Boston, you couldn't imagine how... how worried I was about you."

I could see Ellie in my peripheral as she wrung her wrists in a way she always had, the low hums of insects could be heard deep within the forests.

"So I tried to set off, thank them for the hospitality and head out for Boston. Sadly, my severely damaged shoulder-plate seemed to think differently. Just my fucking luck. Darius proposed to treat me for a period of two weeks. I was stubbornly reluctant to accept, but I had no choice. I was either going to set off as a crippled bastard or wait for my shoulder to mend itself. It was a painfully long period, it didn't help with Leon constantly bugging me for the majority of my time there either."

A branch or something by the same lines seemed to snap into two from behind, and the both of us whipped our heads around to locate what it was, my stomach felt like it was going to erupt. I adjusted my hearing and focused on the foliage where the branch must've snapped. After a solid five seconds, a squirrel leapt out of the bush, and I assumed that he was the one responsible for producing the sound.

"Fucking thing." Ellie sighed in relief, returning to what was at hand, she turned back. "And then?"

I told her how they insisted on escorting me to Boston for safety measures, and I gave out a remark on how polite and well-mannered they were, we crossed Cambridge, just a few miles south before we'd reach the QZ. Unfortunately for us, there were other things in our way.

"Hunters." I said. "Three of them, if I can recall. One of the fuckers, Gavin, shot Darius' horse down. I turned around and found him on the floor, it scared me to death. They'd already dropped me off, and I don't think any of the Hunters'd seen me. I hid behind this tree and watched the whole thing. Gavin was saying something about this deal that they had, apparently Darius was a medicine supplier for them. He refused to give out where they were, big mistake, he ended up getting Leon threatened and shot if he didn't comply."

The next thing I knew, I spilled out everything. I mentioned how I killed Gavin, his head obliterating and breaking off into tiny pieces before the blood gave way and showered all over. The remaining Hunters were mad, knocking the three of us out in just a blink of an eye. I told her how Leon and I got confined into a basement, and we struggled our way out of the temporary jail cell and upstairs into the main house.

"It was dark as hell, and it was early in the morning, too. Leon and I were scared shitless, we only had a measly candle to light our way. The house was big, and the second floor had... it had things that people weren't meant to see." I shuddered. ". . .This one room, it had dozens, I almost counted twenty corpses, some limbless and some in one piece. All of which looked bloody and scourged and looted 'til there was nothing worth of use on them. I guess we weren't their first hostages."

Ellie visibly gulped, and I squirmed around a bit on the log that we sat on before I could continue. I told her how we heard the sound of a door creaking open slowly from below, the moment still sending goosebumps to my skin. The sense of calmness that went over me as I realized that it was just Darius. The fear and terror that I witnessed as we opened the door, only to find out that we'd fallen straight into their trap.

"Then this explosion. . . God, I'd be lying if it didn't deafen my ears. Those Hunters were crafty, and.. the house was just... decimated. I-it was terrible, I thought I was done for. I could've passed out and gotten myself trapped alive if it weren't for Leon. That guy, he's been saving my life as if it was a daily exercise."

"So, what, he's like your knight in shining armor?" she retorted.  
"Ellie," I said.

"Is he saving you from me, now?"  
"_Ellie._" I said.

She forced out a snicker, it was too robotic to feel natural. Of course she would speculate conspiracies about Leon and I. But no, I'd never felt any sort of feelings for him, nor do I plan to. I could almost see a perception of jealousy in her tone of laughter, that, or I was just being too observable.

But I giggled along with her. I set aside all those memories momentarily and had a second to let out some air. Couldn't cloud my mind up with too much dark thoughts, I mentally blessed Ellie for her saving sense of humor.

And then we went on with the story. I had no idea on how I was going to tell her how Darius had died, neither did I plan on telling her this much of the story. But I told her anyway, she emitted a small gasp of breath as I continued to narrate the events, his impalement, his agony, _our_ agony, and then death. So quick and quiet, lethal just by saying the word.

Leon's cries were heartbreaking to listen to, you'd expect those kinds of people to be strong, but you hear people suffering all the time. Screams, weeps, moans, all of those were nothing but added noise to the background. But Leon's, his were ones that you couldn't seem to get out of your head, just like those of the boy's that we heard back in winter.

Their cries seemed to add.. guilt to me. I knew that I was responsible for killing the boy's brothers, but Leon's father? No, I wasn't responsible for that. Was I? Even if it was the Hunters' faults, in some sort of twisted way, I was also one to be blamed. I was too conflicted to reach a solid conclusion.

"...he was a good man, you would've liked him." I told Ellie, rubbing my kneecap as a way of comfort. "Things went pretty rocky after that, obviously we had a hard time pushing on with all the mourning and surviving. It wasn't a good mix, Leon didn't deserve to have all that shit happen to him."

"Neither did you." she solaced.

"The wounds hurt more for him, I don't think he's going to forget that."  
"No one _ever_ forgets shit like that." Ellie said honestly. "You'd have those memories at the back of your head. And periodically, it'll come back to you, whispering into your ear and making you shudder all the while. It's a horrible feeling."

Her remark was enough to make me raise an eyebrow. She could relate. Obviously, the fear in her eyes from when she stared at the flames was already a hint. I could only sigh in response, afraid of saying anything that might cause even a slight disruption in her healing process.

". . .we went to Boston less than a week later." I spoke up, wanting to move the topic to a different direction.  
"Oh?" she cocked her head.

"I wanted to see if you were there, or at least, ask any of the Fireflies where you headed off to if I was too late. Leon and I sneaked into the QZ, it gave me a pretty rueful nostalgic feeling coming back, I don't know. I felt like walking out the second I stepped foot into Boston territory."

To think that I left everything in that Zone behind. Including the people I'd been friends with ever since I had my ass shipped over. Tino and the gang, military acquaintances who were similar to Winston, kids in school who respected me, I wondered how they were doing. Were they still doing the same routine even after a year?

Tino and the rest were probably soldiers now, they'd reach their highest level in school, it was time for them to be a part of the military. The poor bastards, I'd hope to see them one day in this forsaken world.

And Geoff. Damn, I felt horrible for almost forgetting. His lightweight pendant suddenly weighed a ton inside of my rucksack. I grimaced as I remembered him, slumped against a wall and drained out of all life.

We should've given him a quick death and buried him. His corpse must probably be there until this day.

"We went back to the Firefly hideout, they were wiped out. Marlene was right, the military were hitting them good." I said. "Leon and I checked this one room... there were bodies of Fireflies on the ground, all dead. Except. . . for _him_. . . Geoff. . ."

Ellie's face looked pale even in the dark. "What. . ?" she trembled.

"I almost flinched, seeing him resting on the wall. I thought he was dead, but Leon insisted that he was still breathing. Our noise was enough to stir him. The look on his face when he saw me, I'll never forget it."

"Marlene wasn't there, fortunately she left for the west with a crew before the military gunned the remaining down. Those fuckers, they shot them like dogs. Geoff. . . Geoff was still alive to tell the tale, but not for long. . ."

I pulled out the pendant from my rucksack, his blood encrusted with the rusty metal. I handed it over to Ellie, the necklace looked tiny in her hands. She goggled at it for a while, the fact that Geoff had died didn't go through her just yet.

"He gave that to me, I-I couldn't leave him. But he protested against my claims, he told me where you were probably heading off to. If it wasn't for him... I probably wouldn't be here right now." I struggled to say.

Ellie exhaled deeply, and after a solid minute she handed the necklace back over to me. "God. . ." she whispered. "Just like that, huh?"

"I should have stopped his agony. . . should've given him a proper burial."

"What's done is done, Riley." Ellie said woefully, her voice not wavering.

After a while, I told her that things just began to pile up, and after several months Leon and I traveled to Wyoming, hoping to find a Firefly base to either inquire about Ellie or stay momentarily. What we got instead was the real deal.

"Been one hell of a ride, huh?"

"It's worse than hell, trust me." I muttered.

...

...

"What about you?" I queried, making Ellie turn to face me.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "Well. . . I—,_ we've_ been through so much shit that it feels like decades since I've been back in Boston."

_"We?"_ I asked. She wasn't alone?

"Joel. The, uh, smuggler." Ellie replied. Oh, right. "H-he's been with me since the start. There was another smuggler... but, she died by the infect—. . . by the military." she spat out the last word like it was venom.

"He taught me how to survive, how to plow through on my own. I, I didn't realize it at first, but after seeing his countless stealth tactics, his brutal combat, I guess some of his actions influenced me. . ."

"Wait," I said, "is he. . ?"

"Dead?" her eyes widened. "Crap, I hope not. He's at a village not too far from here, coincidentally it's operated by his brother. That's where I'm living in now, I'm just here to. . . I don't know, take a break from everything, I guess. Considering all the shit that'd happened so far, it's hard to take in, and. . . I suppose the best way to handle that was going here."

Huh, Leon was right. He mentioned something about seeing some sort of civilization near the forest, I thought he was being ridiculous, but turned out that the village was existent.

And conveniently, that was where Ellie resided in.

"Guy sounds intimidating." I stated.

"That's what years of surviving does to you, you become carved into someone you never thought you'd be. Feared rather than being loved, that was how most people viewed Joel. But. . . it was different for me."

"He may seem like an unapproachable grouch, but I feel safe whenever I'm with him. He's different, no other person aside from you had made me feel like myself, like I was wanted. . ."

...

...

...

"Riley, I—.. you'd think it'd be easy, right. . ? " She sighed. ". . .escaping the QZ, setting off on our own. Shit. We were stupid. This goddamned world is unforgiving, it's been hard on us... hard on _him_. He's done some terrible things, _I've_ done some terrible things. You're forced to either cling to your morals and die, or do whatever it takes to survive. Sometimes, I, I get startled looking at this monster in front of me, and then I realize that it's my own reflection. You'd be surprised when. . . when you get pushed beyond your limits. . . at what you can do. . ."

She stared coldly at her hands, hands that she told me had killed hundreds of people that she already lost count.

It was unbelievable to know that the innocent girl I'd fallen in love with was no longer so innocent. She changed.  
She was always so cheery with her fiery spirit, you'd have no clue that she had those pent-up feelings deep within her.

I never realized that it'd changed me as well.

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

..

..

"Look, Riley. I—, I'm sorry for saying all that shit to you earlier. . ." I mumbled shyly. "I. . . I thought it was just another stupid dream."

Riley raised a brow. "Dreams, hm?"  
I nodded grimly. "The majority of them aren't very pleasant, mind you."

...

"What were they about?"

"Mostly about you." I blurted out without thinking. Shit. "W-well, like I said, they weren't pleasant, and I don't want whatever happening to you in my dreams to happen to you in real life." I shuddered as I recalled the picture of Riley's body circling around a pool of blood, her abdomen showing off a large bullet hole.

"Aw, aren't you the sweetest? Having dreams about me and all that."

"You're disgusting, Riley, really."

She retorted. "Just because having that crush on me doesn't mean you're granted access to dream about me."

I pushed her playfully, but I think my definition of playful was forceful to her. Riley lost balance on the log and she started to fall off.

I needed to learn how to stop being so fucking rough before I'd kill someone in the process. You'd never know.

"Oh, Christ—" I groaned, reaching out for her.

But I managed to grab her shoulders and pull her back in before she could fall.

And then, our faces were inches away from each other.

I was looking into her eyes again, her brown variety that developed its own spectrum. She still had those splintered darker shades of spokes in her eyes. Her eyes, her fucking common but marvelous eyes were about to be the death of me. She still had that same look, even after a year, even after we both changed and it was like we didn't even know each other.

Her eyes were still the same, same, same.

Without commanding my brain to do anything, I dived into her eyes and leaned in. My lips linked with hers, and everything around me swirled around.

Her lips were warm. As warm and welcoming as they had been the day I first kissed her. When I pulled back, examining her face, she certainly didn't look prepared for that. My kooky smile faded, dread replacing it.

She was not expecting that. Definitely was not expecting_ any_ of that.

"Shit," I sputtered. "I. . . I didn't mean to— I, I'm sorry. Sorry."

Shit.

It wasn't like before.  
She didn't look at me in that way anymore.

I should've known—

My train of thoughts crashed into rock when Riley's face was in front of me.

I repeat: Riley's face was in _front_ of me.

"Funny," she said quietly, ever-_so_-quietly, her nose brushing mine, "I'm having a case of déjà vu."

And then our faces collided.

Her lips pressed against mine so hard that fireworks and fireworks and colors of blueyellowgreenorangeviolet have all exploded so beautifully in my mind. No, they were exploding around _us. _The forests were glimmering rainbows.

My heart—_our_ hearts were beating as one. They were beating faster than I could count them, faster than anything that I could ever imagine in my lifetime. The ground below us was shaking — the trees, the animals, the sky, the universe was shaking. I was kissing her and she was kissing me in compensation for the time we had spent strayed away from each other.

Even as we were kissing and hungrily grabbing for each other and pulling our hairs and moaning our names I couldn't seem to get enough. I needed more, so I got more. But it seemed like it was never enough, and it would never be enough.

"I missed you," I gasped out, breath in need of CPR. We stopped for a moment, with our breathing in sync, heavy and desperate, still wanting more, more, more. Riley's eyes remained closed, her hands were clenching my flannel, and I didn't want her to let go. From the beginning and until now, I never, _ever_, wanted her to let go of me.

"So fucking much," she replied back, huskily, as if completing my own sentence. I smiled. I was smiling and kissing her again and then my hands trailed up to feel the bridge of her stomach, shoulders, neck, and hair. Riley shuddered, grunting the word _Ellie_ in a way so different that it made me shiver along with her. _Ellie._ I wanted her to say it again, so I kissed and groped and trailed my hands around her even more, not even caring if anyone saw, if the moon was watching us, if the clouds were watching us. It didn't matter.

Nothing else fucking mattered.

Her arrms covered me like sheets on a bed. Delusional as I was, I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell her that we've kept at it for so long. A drought distanced ourselves, a world we've never seen beyond the walls had ambushed us with its harsh reality. A world, one that was so spiteful, it had even allowed the separation of two people from each other.

But it was also a world so loving, that it managed to wove those two back together. A world so tender that it had introduced us new people to love and care about. It helped us back on our feet, healing the scars that were painfully pried open by force.

When we pulled apart and breathed in the oxygen together, it was surreal. Our arms were still clinging to one another, the aftermath of the rainbow apocalypse had splattered the trees and ground, causing a spectrum and spokes like Riley's eyes to scatter about the forest ground. I looked at everything related to her, checking one last time, before forever removing my doubt off of the face of the earth.

Only then was the observation definitive.  
Yes, Riley Abel was very much indeed alive.

"I don't want to lose you again." I said, hushed and rasp from the kissing. Riley brushed the hair on my face and tucked it behind my ear tenderly, doing so sent another wave of heat to arise on my cheeks. She laughed softly at my reaction, lightly pressing our foreheads together as she grabbed my hands and intertwined them with hers. And then it came again. That feeling of interconnection between two catastrophic, star-crossed teenage lovers.

"You won't."

And then, it was just us.

It was not Riley and Ellie, but one word alone, so wonderfully woven together like nothing could ever separate it.

Us.

* * *

**And that's that. The grand reunion****! I honestly can't believe we've made it this far, holy crap guys.**

**I'm very excited to write the upcoming chapters, and I hope to see you all in the next! Thanks for reading! :)**

**-Taco**


	23. A Mother's Fury

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Thanks for the birthday greetings whoop whoop 4 more years and then I'm legal to tattoo myself whoop whoop**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Twenty-three: A Mother's Fury**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**-ELLIE-**

We all have our moments.

A campfire warmed us as we settled down, resting upon the rough texture of a fallen tree log. Our two bodies were closely sewn together, watching as the embers popped and danced.

It had been decided that after having an earful of Riley's journey with her friend (that I almost had the intention to drown), I figured to go ahead and tell her mine. Now, I wasn't the most exuberant at that time with retelling Joel and I's adventures, not to mention that there were those _certain_ memories that had the knack at wrecking my emotions, but somehow, I had managed to finish it.

Winter was probably the worst part to recall. There had been an instance where I had forgotten about Riley's presence and had been silently wiping a single tear from my eye without my conscience knowing. She had evidently seen this, and as expected, two enamoring arms had wrapped themselves unto me, filling me with sympathy and love. Her constant soothing voice soaked my ears, telling me that it was all over, and that she was here for me now.

I only wished that her statement was true.

I plodded my way through the winter portion, and took a mute breath of comfort when I realized that it was finished.

Riley took no effort in giving off remarks whenever she thought that a part of my monologue was worth butting in. She gave off comments about certain people, and it was previously shown that David was her favorite person to castigate. Aside from that, she had raptly listened and watched the whole thing, the story felt like forever until I had dictated the last words. Riley exhaled deeply, looking at me with her deep coffee-stained eyes.

"You went through... all that... and I wasn't there for any one of them... God, maybe if I didn't have to fucking fall off, you wouldn't have to go through shit. Ellie, I'm.. I'm sorry." she sheepishly confessed.

I wanted to object, to tell her that she didn't need to be, yet the words refused to flee out of my mouth.  
Because she could be right.

Thinking about it, I had wondered how different it would have been if she came along with me. Since we were originally planned to head to the Capitol with either Geoff or Marlene, it sent shivers down my spine just thinking of not ever meeting the grizzled Texan man if the girl beside me hadn't fallen off the bridge back in Boston. How much would it have contrasted if Tess hadn't been bitten in the fallen museum? Or.. or if Sam and Henry's untimely deaths had been successfully deterred?

Would they be with us here in Jackson? Would _I_ still be the person that I am now?

I guess it was fate. Familiar words had been slithering back into my head as the thought lingered.

"Everything happens for a reaso-" My throat itched, and I hoaxed a cough, poison seemed to drench my airway when the words flew out.  
"...Things happen... and we move on."

Just taking in the account of both David and Joel's words made it feel so perverse.

There was an awkward mum of air. Riley shrugged plainly as she crossed her arms and scratched the side of her cheek, "So, after all that, you just assume he's lying... and you accept it?"

"I don't assume, Riley, I _know._" I corrected, "And what the hell was I supposed to do in that situation? Turn around and walk away? There had to be a reason, right? I mean, it's fucking bullshit that the Fireflies just... stopped."

"I didn't even have the chance to see Marlene." I sighed. "Joel never told me if she was at the hospital or not, that was enough to spark suspicion."

Riley remained quiet for a short moment before turning to me again with worried eyes. "You don't think... she...?" she trailed off.

"I don't even know anymore." I groaned in frustration, covering my face with my hands. What had she meant to say?

That Marlene was dead? _Killed?_

_Gone?_

_..._

...Possibly.

If Geoff and the rest had been murdered back in Boston, the military must have tracked her down easily enough. They were weak, few in numbers. Certainly, if their leader was gone, especially dear Queen Firefly with her charismatic leadership traits, what was the point in struggling with barely any people left? The hospital in Salt Lake City probably had only a fistful of drained, soon-to-withdraw Fireflies. Maybe there was some truth in what Joel spoke.

It was weird, but there was a meager amount of sadness when the thought of Marlene being dead had passed through me. Might it had been the distance after such a long time, or the fact that I had never really built an intimate kinship with her until I'd been bitten in that damned mall did I realize that we were not as close as I thought.

I was unsure with Riley's reaction to her theoretical 'gone-ness', though. She had respected her during our pre-relationship days, or to state it better, she admired her, considering the wanted posters in her dorm, and the way that she dresses was an obvious giveaway already.

Hey, bash all you want, but Riley could fit as a mini version of Marlene.

"On the bright side..." she spoke up, facing me with a tender smile, "We've found each other again, haven't we?"

Softhearted laughter dampened the air, and I took no shyness when I linked my lips to hers, feeling her curved smile was delightful as it was pressed lightly against mine.

"We're fucking embarrassing." I whispered some time after, lips still touching hers.  
"Shh," she hushed back, her voice low and eyes closed, "You're gonna get your saliva in my mouth if you keep talking."

The defiant little kid in me decided to act upon her statement, "Like this?"

"Asshat." she replied, voice muffled by the kiss.

We broke apart, minutes passed, and we ended up having our eyes focused on the fire yet again. It was absurd, less than two hours ago I had found unpleasant recollections whenever looking at the flames. Now, it was more like a loving and calming feeling, seeping to my heart with ample amounts. Looking at the appeasing blazes gave a positive kind of vibe, and I liked it a hell lot better than the previous one.

"Just... try to talk to him about it, El." Riley advised unexpectedly, brown pupils still glued to the orange streak of hot light. "After all, it wouldn't-"

She didn't get the chance to finish.  
An immediate bellow of distress had been cried out, followed by a loud shot of a pistol. A short burst of light from the firearm flickered for a moment in the areas deep within the forests before and around us. Crows screeched and flew in a hurry, fear had been lodged in the middle of our throats, scratching and suffocating until we could breathe no more.

That yell...

...

No... it couldn't be...

...

_Leon. _

* * *

**-JOEL-**

They stood there, completely bewildered, fingers were getting clenched, toes were starting to curl up in their cramped footwear. An inanimate breeze passed them, it whispered consternation into their ears; paleness arrived on the two men's faces.

Gunshots were all too familiar for them, if anything, they should not be phased. Previously accustomed to such a hardened lifestyle of pillaging and hunting, both brothers no longer had to flinch whenever someone had chosen to pull the trigger. Twenty years of having to hear those sounds would result to transmuting those bullet fires into cricket-like noises.

But this was different.  
This was Jackson; a place packaged with safety. Where noises like the ones aforementioned could only be heard once in every blue moon. Causes for such shots could only mean a handful of things, and raids were definitely one of them.

The noise was unsuspecting, unraveling itself as it began to reach their ears. And as they both started to dissect the information, to try and make sense of it all, Joel's stomach had lurched a little farther than Tommy's as he started weighing down the possibilities.

"Oh, shit." he cursed.

Ellie.

Tommy's shoulders had stiffened after briefly realizing where the sound had arisen from. And upon analyzing, his eyes had began a desperate search for something capable of latching unto.

His brother was an acceptable target.

The previous joyful laughter and shouts of the children outside had been quickly deadened. Worried parents or those by the same lines had fled about on the streets like freed hens, yapping and calling for their lost chicks. Men and women from the watch posts whipped their heads in surprise, and in no time flat, a static babel of anxious onlookers had been roaring out of Tommy's radio.

Surely, it could have been some sort of accidental mistake, right? One of the guards had probably misfired a gun. A raid was possible, but please, any Hunter worth his despised existence would think twice before firing a single shot out to a heavily-armed fortress like this one.

Although, most of you here who are already in the process of reading this segment seem to know what had happened outside of the whimsical gates of Jackson. And probably, a Hunter raid can be the least of your assumptions.

But for Joel and the rest, that was not the case.  
The father figure could not bear to imagine Ellie getting ambushed by a band of savages, it made him nauseous, it made him infuriated. And based on your knowledge of the burly man, Joel was unquestionably deadly when aggravated.

Tommy had hushed the guards on the other end, and allowed one of them to explain.

"One shot," a woman reported, "just out in the woods. We're examining the perimeter, no signs of any hostility so far."

Joel, having a hear of this, had grabbed the radio transmitter with a bullying force. Unfortunately for the younger brother, it had been firmly clipped on to his shirt, and he was dragged along with the radio.

"Ellie!" he stressed. "The girl, with red hair? She went out, right? I told 'er to stick with one of the guards while huntin'. She there with you?"

There was an uncomfortable stillness accompanied with inaudible murmurs on the other side of the radio. Not too far from Joel and Tommy were a group of guards from the watch. Men and women, all diverse, all with lives and stories that could not possibly fit into this single partition. And even if it could, please, have some mercy for the poor writer.

But as it turned out, there was one man just among the smattering people. This man in particular had his tail tucked in between his legs, for he knew that he was supposed to venture out with young Ellie into the woods as a guardian.

Yes, dear readers, this man was named Vance.  
And he most certainly had some explaining to do.

Tommy attempted to calm his panic-increasing kinsman, which yielded a scarce result. "You don't s'pose it was just Ellie shootin' some game? She did go huntin', after all."

Joel shook his head and released the grip on the radio, giving Tommy a little breather. "No. No, she only uses her bow when huntin'. And she does a damn good job with it, too. She can't run out of arrows." he told him. "Fuckin' knew I shoulda stopped her from huntin' alone, now the sun is gone and she ain't even back. Goddammit."

"Christ's sake, Joel. We ain't jumpin' to conclusions so early. I'm sure she's fine, let's just dispatch a couple of our boys out-"

His suggestion made the elder one slightly indignant. "You think I'm gonna sit here fiddlin' with my thumbs while they're out searchin' for her?" he said, almost irate. _"We_ are goin' there. Now."

Since in your everyday family household where the younger sibling is expected to be submissive and respective towards the older, Tommy knew that he could not argue. He radioed the others at the watch post to acknowledge their soon arrival. And in a matter of minutes, they both exited the cozy home and out onto the unusually wide and now empty streets of Jackson, the darkening sky was littered with dirty clouds as they walked briskly towards Ellie and Riley.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

What was our reaction?  
Nothing but pureed, non-concentrated, and bitterly delicious panic.

For one reason, it was apparent that the shot had alerted the people in what Ellie called the town, Jackson. And two, it was also_ very_ apparent that Leon was involved in the occurrence, hence the previous yell.

"Fucking kid," I scolded indirectly, pacing back and forth between the log and the fire, "what the hell was he thinking, running off into the damned woods at night?"

Ellie raised her scarred brow, arms folded across her red-flanneled chest. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have done something stupid like allowing him to run off."

"It's both on us, Ellie."

She gave out a vague noise of disdain. "How the fuck is it _my_ fault, too? You're the one who said that he'd be back!"  
I stopped pacing, shoes scrunching the gravel beneath me. "Let me see, if you didn't attempt to drown him and make it all uncomfortable by pressing him too much, he wouldn't have had to leave-"

"Really? You're _criticizing_ me for my self-fucking-defense?" she scoffed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I should've just allowed him to choke me then, right?"

"I didn't mean it like that, I just-..." An exhausted breath of air left my lungs before I continued to speak. "Okay, you know what? Arguing isn't gonna help anyone here, and I'm sure that we both wanna know what's going on."

"So, what, you want us to go find Leon in the density of this forest while we got a town's worth of people searching for us? Or more specifically, _me?_"  
"You think I'm going to let you-"

"Riley," she grabbed my hands, "look, they have no clue that I'm with you. Hell, they don't even know who you are. If I go with you to find Leon while they're out searching for me, things are gonna go south, and you know that."

There was a pause, her warm hands still gripping on to mine.  
"We have to split up-"  
"Ellie-"  
"You have to-"

"Do you even remember the last time we got split up?" I queried sharply.

"This isn't last time." she protested. "It won't take long, I'll meet you back here with the rest of them. Fetch Leon, if he's hurt, we can patch him up by the time we get back to Jackson."

"Are you insa-"

Ellie had decided to cut me off, she stretched her legs a little longer, so that she could level with my height, and she planted a fast kiss on my cheek before speeding off. Her hand slipped away from mine, she was too fast for me to grab it back.

"El-"

"Be safe!" she called out, her figure already disappearing from my vision.

Wow, that fucking kid.

Ellie had sped off, her vibrancy decreasing as our distance from one another increased. I found myself staring a little longer than I'd intended, her quick peck on my cheek was fading in an incredibly slow manner.

It was crazy, how convenient and unbelievable it was that I'd found her. And yet, after all this time, she seemed to take no effort in being so stunning.

..  
..

Right. Leon. I needed to find him.

I turned around, the view of the woods did a little intimidating wave as I found it overcasting me, its shadow engulfing mine and my physical body.

Taking a deep breath, I took a shied stride towards it.

_I can do this._

I traipsed along the mesh of foliage and rocks with a hearty addition of clumsy trips and typical cusses. They gradually stopped, since the grassy labyrinth I was in seemed to get darker and parlous, its grotesquerie had made me quiet. You know, the trees even looked to be larger than usual.

But I had probably been paranoid, right?

Yeah, I was just seeing things. Trees could not hurt me.  
That was stupid.

"Leon is fine." I told myself, still plodding through the littered ground. There was nothing but the sounds of twig snapping and leaf crunching in the forested valley. My heart pumped silently like quiet thumps, repeating in an interval of four counts.

..

_But... what if... what if Leon was dead?_

My heartbeat reduced to three counts.

What if I had been too late? What if, by any chance, he'd been _abducted?_ What if he'd been kidnapped by aliens and his last-resort distress flare was the gunshot? If that was real, Leon might'd been a thousand galaxies away from me, never to be seen again.

The environment grew more sinister, its branches curved sharply towards me, disgusted at my presence.  
My heart pumped in an interval of two counts now. I could hear it beating, like a silent rapping against a door.

In an attempt to soothe myself, I took out my flashlight. The darkness was appalled by it, and it fled from the light and cowered somewhere far from the rays. I took another deep breath, the brightness assuaged me.  
Trees could not hurt me.

More walking, more crunching and snapping. More distance from Ellie.

More paranoia.

How the hell did Ellie even manage to negotiate me through this? I was walking towards my doom, as though she had ordered me to grab a meat cleaver, chop my head off, and serve it to her on a platter. I hadn't been smart with my recent decisions, had I?

A flashlight was in my hand, a gun in the other. If there were any Infected out there, just let them come out and be done with it. My poor heart couldn't take any more.

I refused to move my pupils in any direction other than forward. That was the direction I was walking in, right? Just forward. That way... that way I could easily come back, and find Ellie.

But first, I needed to find that fucking kid.

..

I wanted to call out his name. Though there was a feeling of trepidation, God, it was always that one hesitant pause. An entanglement of fear was wedged in my throat. Who knows, there could be Stalkers in this fucking forest; sulking... clicking, in search for new prey.

Prey like me.

Hell, there could even be one right behind me.

Of course not, let's be practical here.  
...And yes, I did look behind just for the sake of it, only to be greeted by my subtle trail.

Nature had a talent of injecting you with fear, causing some lucid little hallucinations to play in your head. It was a horrifying fact.

There was a plethora of walking and searching, and after many prolonging minutes, it seemed that my hunt was fruitless. I should have known.

_He was gone._

If I hadn't been_ so stupid_ to let him out of my sight, to allow him to wander around this goddamned forest while Ellie and I were too busy groping for each other, he could still be here. He could still be with us, constantly arguing with Ellie as we headed back to their safe haven, awaiting to be welcomed by the unfamiliar faces of Jackson.

And instead, here I was, in the heart of a haunted forest, in search for a boy who was already gone.  
My thoughts had been interrupted, and never was there such a mix of surprise, relief, and dismay when I had heard that single world as it came rolling pleasantly to my ear.

"No..."

...

A voice.

Barely audible. It was strikingly strangled and disheveled, like it'd been crumpled up and flattened out.

My hairs stood on end, the interval of counts of my fragile heart reduced yet again. I ungracefully blinded my flashlight to where the unearthly sound came from. The light had colored the whole place up, and I hoped that the voice had luckily belonged to a teenage male with brown hair and blue eyes.

Squinting through the brightness, I tried to enhance my hearing, to just go ahead and locate the source. But not like this, not with these irritating obstacles in my fucking way.

There was a hiatus, to decide whether or not I should just go ahead and call him out. Whoever uttered the word obviously wasn't me, and I was pretty sure that the Infected weren't capable of using their voice to fit human vocal standards, either.

My guesses were pretty bare, and it felt like I had no other choice but to do the inevitable.  
A silent sigh escaped my lips,_ here goes nothing._

"Leon?"

An uncomfortable silence found its way in between that precedent and the next, it nestled and made itself at home, stretching its imaginary arms out without a worry.

..

..

"Riley?"

Jesus, I loved that alleviating feeling. It was a wonderful sensation.

The ton of stress had jumped off of my back, as well as the little bits of paranoia. Though, I was still clueless about Leon's well-being since I couldn't technically see him, but just hearing his voice in the clear helped remove the creases off of my forehead.

"Fucking hell." I whispered, clearing my throat. "Where the heck are you?"

"I—" Leon stopped.  
"Riley," his disgruntled voice pleaded to the damp air, "help me."

Since he sounded like he was in audible range, I was independent enough to track him on my own, - which didn't take too long since all I really had to do was turn to my left and clear out a bunch of large leaves. I found him with his legs sprawled lazily, sitting in what seemed to be a nest of broken twigs and fur. A medium-sized ball of brown fuzz had been placed upon his lap like a handkerchief.

It took quite a short time for me to realize that there were three things incredibly and horrifyingly wrong in this situation. For one, Leon's lower part of the jacket, just by the side of his abdomen, had been ripped slightly, a fresh paint of red was found around it. It was like a small circle, increasing in size as it soaked his hoodie.

Secondly, after accidentally glaring the flashlight at his face, I had given off a quick yelp, examining the sudden cuts and scratches strewn on his facial features. His scar wasn't alone anymore, it was accompanied by several others of its friends and family. His hair was a mess, the clean cut had transformed into sharp, mountain-like crevices and bumps. If he had tussled with something, he tussled with it hard.

And finally, after quickly analyzing the brown ball of fur in Leon's lap, it had processed through my brain that it wasn't some sort of coat that he had found.

Leon, upon looking at me, had flipped the irregularly-shaped furball around and presented to me none other than a body of a small brown bear cub. Its mouth was slightly ajar, showing premature but still pointed teeth.

The little thing was dead. Its stomach declared a bullet hole with confidence, the fur around it drenched with scarlet.

My digestive system did a triple-somersault in the air. Flailing its limbs around wildly, hitting all my insides and their sensitive spots.

I had never seen a bear before. Dead or alive, it didn't matter.

"It bit me." he said, the words rolling out of his tongue, his fingers gripping to the cub's fur.

No, Leon. It was defending itself. From _you_. Because _you_ infiltrated its home. And _you_ shot it.

I stood before he and the cub, still pushing the information through my head. I looked at the dead animal, and then at the nesting grounds that Leon was sitting on. There was one thing missing from the whole canvas.

Mother bear.

She had probably let her offspring remain and sleep in a secluded spot (which, in the future would be trampled by a boy named Leon Hutt), she then might've gone out into the forest to gather food for the both of them, and was already planning to come back as soon as she had heard the wonderful sound of a gun fire in the shelter's direction.

And in all honesty, I wanted to scream at him, at the world, at our misfortune.

"Leon, get the fuck out of there." I commanded quickly, the thought of a bear furiously sprinting towards our way had made me want to fertilize my pants. I'd never seen an aggravated one, and I wasn't planning on staying just to find out.

"I-, I can't." he replied, gently rolling the cub off of his lap as it landed lifelessly to the center of the grounds.  
"The hell you mean, you can't?" Though it was quite clear to me why he couldn't get up. His bleeding side-abdomen was unsurprisingly the culprit, the cub had bit him, and it bit him hard.

A grunt of impatience filled the air. "Fine. I'll... I'll see what I can do." I said, kneeling down as I neared him, innocuously pushing the cub's body a little farther from me.

"Sorry.. I think I stepped on it accidentally...I thought it was a fucking Infected... scared the crap outta me, too."

I chortled, "You let a small bear do all _this_ to you?"

"You mispronounced 'devil spawn'." he corrected.

He carefully lifted his lower hoodie up just a couple of inches above the navel. Nearing his stomach was a sick little piece of prickly, red skin. The clear bite marks of the young bear had etched him. The cub had probably torn a small chunk out of Leon's skin, leaving a layer of blood and mutilated flesh. It was bleeding pretty heavily, and viewing it had sent shudders up and down my already shaken body.

"Oh, that's gross." I remarked, earning a disheartened and painful chuckle from Leon. I removed the pack from my shoulders, unzipped it, and searched for anything to dress his wound. Getting it infected would be the last thing that I had wanted.

"Do you have anything to disinfect it?" I queried, still rummaging through. He gave out a sullen shake of the head, and I knitted my brows together as the stress started to build up.

God, he shouldn't have shot the little thing, who knew what kind of creatures lived in these woods upon hearing that damned gun?

Although, even being the hypocrite I was, I would've gotten mine out, too. If ever _I_ was bitten, I'd assume it to be an Infected and I'd shoot it anyway, regardless if I was done for or not.

You could hear Leon's weak breathing and the sounds of an evening forest. I shoved anything unnecessary to the sides in my pack, digging until I could find a rag buried within the contents. It'd stayed like that, and as I dug through, I found my hands touching an rusted metal object.

_**Riley Abel**_

Ah, yes. Hello, you ancient thing. It'd been a while, hadn't it?  
Thanks again, Ellie, for throwing my beloved Firefly pendant back at me and allowing us to reunite after a year without me seeing its beautiful and metallic face.

Flipping the pendant around, the Firefly logo had been smiling back at me, greeting me back with a mellow yawn. Our blood, - Ellie's and mine - had been stained and sprinkled lightly on it, as if marking and writing down our journey across a scoured and ransacked United States.

Leon found the leisure to interrupt my moment with my old pendant.

"Where's Ellie?" he asked, annoyance filling me as usual. "I thought you two were _inseparable?_" His wrecked voice was still filled with casualness. I placed the pendant to the sides with the rest of the unwanted, still searching for a gauze of some kind.

"Went to get the folks from the town, and yeah, you were right about the settlement." I gave out a short laugh before speaking again. "Never figured you'd be right for once."  
The flashlight brightened up his pale-stricken face. "If it didn't hurt, Abel, I'd slap you."

After a generation of searching, there was, of course, no bandages to be found. I checked Leon's backpack as well, which was peculiarly crowded with wrappings of eaten energy bars.

"What is-" I exclaimed, throwing the garbage out of his pack. "-what in the world were you doing keeping _these_ in your bag?"  
He huffed back, "Can we just focus on the wound right now, please?" Restlessness had found its way in his attitude. I frustratingly plopped his backpack beside him, we didn't have any fucking rags.

"Fantastic." I scratched my head, thinking of an alternative dressing, I grabbed my rucksack again, giving the contents another look. There had to be something - _anything_ to wrap around his wound.

With my head clouded up with too much thoughts, I couldn't focus on anything else other than the bag, it had been a good minute or two when Leon's voice forced me to move my eyes onto his.

"What?" I asked irritably, looking at him. But for some reason, his blue eyes did not hold a sharp edge, nor did it send electrified tingles to my skin.

They were _shaking_. Why on earth were they shaking?

"I... I hear it." he spoke out feebly.

Crunching of leaves, snapping of twigs, all sounds had been combining themselves together in this huge and crazy fanfare.

It was a sign.

...

Oh, no.

My chest tightened, my heart was met with the small interval of counts yet again. I closed my eyes slowly, turning my head to the side as to focus my ears. And with all the luck in the world placed on my fate, I hoped that whatever _it_ was wasn't what I dreaded it to be.

Well, not too long after that, I had realized something.  
And quoting Leon here,_ luck tended to be a little bitch._

A faint roar of a grizzly animal could be heard from afar, echoing into the distance. A flock of birds from the trees had flown out of the forest and into the eternal sky overhead, their gift of flight made me green with envy. The only observation that my brain could tell me was clear.

Mama bear was coming.

* * *

**-JOEL-**

They arrived at one of the gates, lucky for Vance, Joel was not informed enough to know about his irresponsibility. The gates were as tall as the ones back at the dam that he and Ellie had encountered, they had towers that were housing one or two patrol officers.

Bemused expressions greeted the two men, an exchange of words were delivered, commands were outputted, and soon enough, a worried woman with shining blond hair had scurried towards the crowd, eyes locating for her darling husband.

"Tommy," she placed her hands on the arms of his by the time she had found him, and then, she proceeded to talk in an alienated and speedy way. "Is everything all right? What happened? They say that a raid's been-"  
"Easy, easy. It ain't a raid, as far as we know, anyway. The group's about to scout the area before givin' us feedback." he explained.

Joel had stepped in, and he was by far the most anxious stepper-inner of them all.  
"You seen Ellie anywhere?" he jabbered, "Is she at your place?"

"Haven't seen her the whole day, why?"

Joel had responded by stomping one foot into the grassy-covered ground with ardor. "Goddamn it!"

Shortly after witnessing his fascinating antiphon, Maria's head turned towards Tommy.  
"What about Ellie?"

"He let her go huntin' by herself in the forest." he shook his head, "It seemed like a good idea, up until we heard that shot, now he's blamin' himself."

In Joel's defense, who wouldn't? Especially when they had been dealing with Hunter raids and Infected confrontations the past weeks, no guardian or parent would think that their kid would be safe after hearing such a sudden shot. What more if that kid was outside of the boundaries of Jackson?

Once he had thought that he'd been staying in the same spot for too long, Joel needed to act, he needed to find Ellie, wherever she was. If she was in danger or not, he had a ferocious lust to know, the mystery of her well-being was bloodcurdling. And by the time he, Tommy, and Maria were about to exit the gates, the guards patrolling the area had been yelling something out for all to stop and listen.

Undeniably, that was a day where disruptions had occurred so very regularly.

"Contact, up north!" they shouted, guns immediately pointing at the said direction. The trio of alarmed adults had climbed up to reach the towers, Joel's fingers were clutching so tightly to the railing. His flashlight out to try and make out any shadows that would pop out.

"Await orders before shooting." one of them stated, calmer than usual.

Units of men and women were all stationed in such a mechanic way. They were anticipating it, the person, whomever would emerge out of the forest, Hunter or Infected, their fingers wanting so badly to press the trigger.

Joel was lucky they hadn't. For the figure managed to be a girl with a blazing red flannel.  
"Ellie!" You could almost imagine his relief and fatherly concern. Oh, yes, the admonishing time. It was coming.

"She's one of us!" Maria yelled below. The guards had lowered their flashlights and weapons, (they did it quite disappointingly) and of course, Vance had opened up the gate for her. The nerve of him.

Ellie had been panting severely when she arrived inside the gates, she bent slightly, hands resting on her knees, feet sore from the achingly long run. Joel hurried himself down the tower, "Ellie," he said again, approaching her and putting both his heavy hands on her shoulders. His head and eyes were moving and examining her, in search for wounds or bruises to treat.

"And just where the hell have you been?" Ah, the commencement of the fatherly scolding. "Do you even realize how worried you got me? I even told you to come back before sundown, now look what time it is! You coulda gotten hurt -"

"Joel—" she started, only after heavily panting.  
"We thought there were Hunters around, and that gunshot! Ellie, you—"

"Joel! I—"  
"—gotta do what me, Tommy, or Maria says, alright? I ain't hearin'—"

_"Joel!"_ She removed the burdensome hands off her shoulders.

He stopped the train of words from rolling. But only for a moment.

Before Ellie could speak, yes, believe it or not, they had been disturbed yet again.  
But instead, it was not a soldier who had the nerve of doing it.

It was the roar of a bear, and a flock of birds had escaped the green smokes of the forest before arriving to the darkened sky as soon as the bear's cries had been heard.

The girl's face had lost color by then.

"Oh, fuck."

...

...

_Riley._

* * *

**-RILEY-**

No, please, no.

This wasn't happening, please, God, tell me it wasn't happening.

Frozen feet were glued to the ground, skin the texture of a chicken's had been popping out of every fragment of our bodies. Eyes that were renowned to be shocking and vibrant had become scared and alone. We were standing before our demise.

I had never been so terrified of an animal that I had yet to meet.

The roar, it felt so hauntingly close. How close was the bear? Where would it pop up the next time? What was it like to become the hunted? And on a scale of ten to ten, how exactly fucked were we?

Our scale was eleven.

"Leon, move." I said.

"But-"

"MOVE!" Now was not the time for petty little excuses! I hoisted him up forcefully by the armpits, allowing one of his arms to rest on my shoulder, I made sure that he was also capable of moving, and we had done this in less than ten seconds.

It was amazing really, at what the human body could do under pressure.

With everything set, we ran as fast as our situation could allow us, which, in reality, was painfully slow. Each step took a large portion of energy out, considering that I had more than half of Leon's weight on my shoulders, running whilst holding him was a bad idea.

But still, I ran for the sake of my life, this was not how I would want it to end, not when I was just turning seventeen, not when we had found a place to settle down, and definitely not when I had just reunited with Ellie. I wouldn't allow this to be the day of my death, no, there was so much to live for.

_The settlement_. Yes, Ellie had to be there, she must have heard the roars, surely, she must be on her way. How fucking wrong had she been proven, to think that it was even safe for us to split up. Hah! The predicament we were in was nowhere _remotely_ close to safe.

Poor Leon had been rag-dolled enough for the past hours. The bleeding had not stopped or slowed, his already bloodied hand that was covering his wound was wet, and peculiarly, it was warm. Warm and wet, isn't that a combination.

"Riley," he barely even struggled to say, "it hurts—, I... I need a rag, anything! Please..!"

It pained me to ignore his cries.

I told myself to run faster, and that if I did, the faster we'd get to Jackson, the sooner we'd patch up the poor cub-assaulted boy.

There was so much leg movement, recalling anything seemed like reaching out to an inanimate object. _Keep running faster. _I told myself,_ Just keep moving, you'll make it._

The branches had scratched me, pine needles prickled at my feet, and the mosquitoes never failed to give up on me.

We might have made it, only if, only if I hadn't been the clumsy bastard I was and not trip on that rock, that dreaded fucking rock. I lost the sensation of gravity, and for a half second, I tasted the sense of flight. A bird, flying in the air, before totally losing balance and crash landing towards the rocky terrain.

Skins had been damaged when both Leon and I fell, the only difference was that the boy no longer bothered to get up.

"Leon?" I called out to him, shaking him desperately after getting up. "Leon? Come on, we gotta move!"

His face was a mixture of unconsciousness, suffering, and sleep. His eyebrows were arched but his eyes were closed. His head leaned backwards as I held him by the collar.

Hoisting him back up yielded no effects, he was unmistakably heavy without having himself to carry his own weight. Leon was immovable, and it seemed that that was final.

"Damn it!"

Before I had been given another shot to try and lift the blue-eyed boy again, the animal of the hour had began knocking on our doorstep.

There was a rustling of leaves, and thinking it as some sort of squirrel that had the intention of breaking more twigs, I had chosen to ignore it and to not look behind to check.

A stupid fucking decision.

Before it had came to me that the pounding of the earth's ground wasn't actually my heartbeat, but that of an approaching bear, I was still trying so desperately to get him up.

But when looking around, it was by then had I realized that my life could just very well be over. Because the last thing that I had seen were those two, deep black eyes of a brown monster, I heard the deafening roar of it, and the sight of a humongous, head-sized paw that was accompanied by a set of dangerously sharp claws. They were all hurdling towards me with a groundbreaking force.

The paw met with my face, my neck, and my collarbone.

The most intense pain that had ever happened to me, all in a split second.

Then, the dullness of arriving at death's door.  
And what were Ellie's final words to me?

_Be safe._

Oh, the irony of life.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**  
**-APPROXIMATELY 9 HOURS AFTER PREVIOUS-**

She had been used to her former dorm, where her bed did not serve as a bunk, and where there was no pesky low ceiling to bother her every time she awoke and arose from the mattress.

This day, however, since feeling so hungover from the previous night, she bolted upright and fast, bumping her hazy head in the process due to the bed above her.

An acute yell escaped her lips, followed up by one of her signature profanities. She rubbed her throbbing skull, eyes with heavy suitcases were carried below them, it seemed that she did not remember much from last night. Or, to say it better, she did not want to remember.

Ah, yes, yesterday. Oh, what a day that was.

She recalled the faces of juvenile delinquents whom were zealously picking on her the second she had hopped off the bus, she'd witnessed seeing the girl who rescued her, yet the young heroine chose to steal her Walkman in the process. She remembered the alcoholic breath of a soldier and the sweet scent of a mare, she had tasted the burning smoke in her mouth, she sniffed at the horrid smell of infected skin in the sulfur air, she treasured the hug exchanged with the Walkman thief, she stood motionless as the jolting shock of electricity coursed through Riley's veins, she had felt the blunt pain that found itself on her left temple, and she recalled her body touching the cold heart of a cement floor...

She remembered it all.

But even if there were several highlights of her first day in the Military Preparatory School, one certain memory seemed to bite whenever she tried to visualize it again.

Yes, just after having her body feel the sensation of the cement floor, she had been awoken and freed by the ropes that tied her arms and legs in the process. It was a pity, if one would walk by and see her like that, you could almost imagine Marlene commiserating her while she had been cutting the ropes off.

"I didn't want to do this to the two of you," she would say, "but there's no other choice here."

_There's no other choice here._

..

That rings a bell, doesn't it?

There may be some of you who appear to have no idea on how we ended up with Ellie and Riley being knocked unconscious, tied up with ropes, and were then lying on cold stony floors when the last time we had seen them, they were in each other's arms, slowly recovering from the previous Runner attack.

And to give you a vague idea, there had unfortunately been more Runners after the first one that'd attacked, forcing the two of them to break from the hug, and to run in a way they had never ran before. A dead end stopped them in their tracks, and before the Infected could have sunken their teeth into their exhausted skin, bullet holes darted toward the creatures in a rapid force.

The Fireflies had arrived to save the day.

Riley felt as though they were their ultimate saving grace. Like they were those perfect little heroes you'd find in comic books and video games. Yes, she was sure that they'd be safe at that point. And she was certain that they would be very willing to allow her in to the militia group with open arms.

Boy, was she proven wrong.

Following the events; they had been harshly knocked out by the dear Fireflies, tied up, and then transported to a place near the girls' beloved Military School. Marlene made her entrance, quite humbly, actually, and she had removed the hardened strings that clamped Ellie and Riley's limbs together like a tied-up swine.

They should be thankful, really, that if the Fireflies hadn't been there, they'd be Runners of their own. Freshly transformed Infected, an addition of creatures to waste bullets on.

Riley, however, was not swayed from her goal. She had found the Fireflies, and instead, they wanted the both of them to return back to whence they came.  
The 15-year-old girl was obviously incensed.

_The nerve of them!_ she thought. _I go through all this shit for these people, and they're telling me to go back?__  
_

It would only take some minutes for her to receive the consequences of such foolhardy stubbornness.

It was when Marlene had pinned the hardheaded girl to the ground, her hand clutching tightly to her hood, and when a gun was coldly kissing her kneecap, did she realize that being a Firefly wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Ellie remembered their faces, the woman's was cold and fierce, Riley's expressions were hauntingly neutral, she had bulbous brown eyes that looked up at the leader that she had once and still admired.

"Or maybe I'll just maim you," she remembered Marlene growl, the gun grew colder as it remained on Riley's knee, "plenty of Fireflies end up as cripples."

The stubborn girl had shed a few tears shortly after they had been told to return back.

Ellie could not help but bare a few teeth as she pictured Marlene threatening her again. Indeed, the _nerve_ of that woman! Reaching such an extent just to prove a point! Even if she hadn't actually meant to hurt Riley, she felt dogged.

Although, she couldn't keep her anger at the woman for too long; two artifacts that Marlene had given were preventing her from holding that grudge.

Two artifacts.

A bloodstained letter,  
And a retractable blade.

She remembered those two things most of all. Just a few hours ago, during the wee hours of the morning, she had been painstakingly reading the letter from top to bottom, front to back. She lost count of how many times she had read through the words, words that had been written by her mother.

_My mother,_ she thought.

_Anna._

_.._

_That's what the letter said, right? Anna._

_It's a beautiful name._

She removed the sheets off her body, and the paper greeted her as it was huddled next to the threadbare blanket. A hand slowly reached out towards it, and before she knew what was going on, she had been reading the letter once again.

_Ellie,_ it started. The untidy and scrawly letters that formed the first word in the note was her name. It comforted her the moment she read it. She didn't want to believe it - her mother had written _this_ for her, the mere thought of it would soon make a small tear run down her swollen cheek.

She breathed out deeply, attempting to calm her shaking hand, and she read the letter again, to try and start the day on a good but dramatic note.

_**º ****º ****º  
**Ellie,_

_I'm going to share a secret with you, I'm not a big fan of kids, and I hate babies._

_And yet... I'm staring at you, and I'm just awestruck. __You're not even a day old, and holding you is the most incredible thing I've done in my life -_

_a life that is about to get cut a little short._

_Marlene will look after you.  
There's no one in this world I trust more than her.  
When the time comes, she'll tell you all about me. Don't give her too much of a hard time. Try not to be as stubborn as me._

_I'm not going to lie, this is a pretty messed up world.  
It won't be easy. The thing you always have to remember is that,_

She flipped the paper to the back, (she had failed to restrain her hands from shaking) and continued to read the next segment,

_life is worth living! Find your purpose and fight for it.  
__I see so much strength in you. I know you'll turn out to be the woman you're meant to be._

_Forever... your loving mother,_

_Anna._

_Make me proud, Ellie!  
**º **º **º******  
_

_..._

Of all the things, she never knew that a letter would have the capabilities of making her cry.

She had been imagining Anna writing down the letter for her. She imagined herself as a baby, sound asleep, being silently cradled by a dying mother, a pen would be on her other hand and blood would still be present on her fingers. She depicted her frail pen-wielding hand, moving so gracefully across a piece of paper with fervor.

She knew nothing of what her mother had looked like, did she have the same red hair as hers? The same emerald flowing eyes? Did she too have spots of freckles dotted across her face? Or did Ellie have similar features as her father?

What was a father to her, anyway?

It was just a word.  
Something to conceptualize a man who cares for his child.

Ellie knew no such knowledge of her father, let alone her mother. She was an orphan.  
Just like most of the damned population in this world.

After taking in the letter, the switchblade, and the events of yesterday, she wanted to cry, she wanted nothing more but to give up. The last sentence of Anna's letter seemed so impossible and preposterous to her.

_Make me proud, Ellie!_

_..._

_How do I make you proud, Mom?_

What had she done that felt like an epitome of pride?

Was it fighting kids on the street?  
Stealing?  
Assaulting unwary officers?  
Stabbing children's knees with compasses?

How in the world would she grow up to be the woman she was meant to be, when she couldn't even stay put without causing trouble?

The tears, no matter how hard she tried, they could not seem to flow on that morning, there was only one single drop that had gotten out, and that was it.

She felt absolutely ungrateful.

_Cry, damn it!_ she had told herself, such an unmindful little girl, what an ingrate! Truly, how _dare_ she not show her feelings by crying?

You could sense the sarcasm from that previous statement.

It was a pity, again, she had not realized that all her tears had been dried up from last night.  
Yes, a fact to tell you: Ellie had been silently crying herself to sleep, just after rereading the letter, and after caressing the switchblade that she had also been given before putting it under her pillow.

It pains the heart just by imagining it.

...

When she found out that she had been reading the last sentence over and over again for the past ten minutes, Ellie gave out a sigh, she folded the letter cautiously, and placed it in a safe compartment inside of her backpack, the one that was on top of a drawer next to her bed. She stood up with fatigued legs, her blue shirt clung to the sweat at her back.

_Another day in another Quarantine Zone._

And for once in her life, Ellie had never been so eager to cleanse herself in the shower rooms. She didn't care if the water was freezing, she didn't care if there was not enough shampoo to soothe her greasy scalp, and she most certainly didn't care if the suds would go into her eyes and burn her like they always did.

She just felt the itching need to remove the stench of yesterday.

She was lucky that it was a Saturday, having to run ten laps around the campus for tardiness would be the last thing she'd wanted, especially after everything she and Riley had gone through several hours before.

_Riley!_ it clicked in her mind, it was one of those shower thoughts that people have, _Where_ _could she be?_

Beyond the blaring sound of sharp water droplets hitting her skin, Ellie could hear the faint congregation of kids in the mess hall not too far from her. She dressed quickly, she tied up her drying hair and crammed her feet into her shoes. And once she was done brushing her teeth in the usual 15-second timer, she darted towards the cafeteria in search for the Walkman thief.

There were less people than the first time she arrived here, Ellie glanced up at the slightly cracked wall clock overhead, telling her that it was now three in the afternoon.

She was always a heavy sleeper.

Her green eyes scanned the area, the wide room felt like a sea, kids were divided into their respective groups, Ellie thought she'd find her in one of them, casually chatting with Tino and the rest.

But instead, she found her on one of the far-end tables, a small plate with an unappetizing mound of mushed bananas were looking solemnly up at her. She was picking at it with her spoon, a hand resting on her cheek. She was alone.

Poor Riley.

Ellie walked up to the deserted table, her mind was trying to concoct a conversation so she would be ready by the time she'd get there. Her brain had failed her yet again.

Riley detected her presence, and coffee-stained eyes with suitcases beneath them had moved up at the approaching girl, she stopped picking at the mound of food, a weak smile had been painted on her strained-looking face.

"Hey," she said, her voice sounding quite beat.

Unprepared, Ellie had been staring back at her uncouthly._  
_

"Hi," she squeaked back, feet frozen in place, the slight buoyancy in her tone was not intended.

Riley's smile grew just a centimeter wider, her heavy eyes moved back to the food as she started to consume a part of it. "No one's stopping you from sitting down, you know."

"Right." Ellie said after an eternity, and she began to settle down as best as she could, fighting off the awkwardness that wanted to seep in.

The two had stayed like that, with Riley nonchalantly eating her mush of whatever-that-was and the other whose hands were uncomfortably tapping the wooden seat with a soft thumping sound, eyes staring at her sneakers that were tucked under the table.

She didn't want to touch the topic of their encounter with the Fireflies, or the witnessing of falling tears, or anything at all related to yesterday; so Ellie had decided to put her mouth to good use.  
"So," she started, moving her head from left to right as if in search, "where's your... uh, other friends?"

Riley shrugged with mild casualness, she had probably expected a different question. "Doing whatever they do on weekends, I told them that I'd be fine here."

"Oh, okay."  
The wooden seat below Ellie had taken quite a beating by her fingers. You could hear it pleading, desperately begging her to stop.

Yet she refused to do so, and eventually, there had been a speechlessness between two lethargic girls, neither attempting to bring up whatever they had wanted to say. The background noise had simply been background noise, acting as a null void around the both of them.

Ellie hated it.

Was it the horrid practice of Riley's food picking?  
The scent of inedible mushy bananas?  
The annoyance of her wood thumping?

Whatever her hatred was pointed at, Ellie didn't want any of it, she halted the thumping, and she built up the unnecessary courage to talk.

"How'd you know?"

Riley's eyes moved up to view her once again, they were evenly perplexed.

"Know what?"

"When I asked you what to do, I mean, when Marlene was saying all that stuff about me, how'd you know she wasn't lying?"

Oh, that was a good point.  
Riley bit her lip and thought for a moment, they'd both gone through the same shit, and some trust had been constructed due to that, she'd figured that she should at least let her know.

"I... I looked at a bunch of these records at the Corporal's Office, they probably came in some time before your arrival. Yours in particular interested me, that's why I knew your name." she admitted, "Seriously though, stabbing a kid's knee with a compass? That's pretty impressive."

Ellie felt marginally frightened, "Is it an ordinary thing for you to sneak into that dickhead of a corporal's office?"  
"That doesn't sound too shabby, actually._ Corporal Dickhead_..." she chuckled. "But yeah, that's where I get the alcohol for Winston."

"And you haven't got caught yet?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"  
The opposing girl tugged the sides of her mouth as she arched a brow. "So, what, you got dirt on every single kid here in school?"

Riley gave out a sluggish wink, "I think you've known enough, Ellie."

She most certainly did not.

They continued to create silence, though it wasn't as uncomfortable as the one prior. Riley moved on to finish her meal (you could see a slight gagging every now and then), and Ellie would examine her subconsciously, noticing the little features of the girl.

"But. . . thanks for taking me to the mall and all that." she initiated meekly, "It was pretty fun going out with you."

The last four words were not supposed to roll out of her mouth.  
_Going out with you?_ Ellie reprimanded herself, _What are we, dating?_

_I'm a fucking klutz._

"You think so?" Riley's smirk seemed almost diabolical.  
If it came to devious smiles, the Walkman thief was superb at crafting ones. Somewhere at the back of her head, she had been waiting for her to say this.

"Definitely." Ellie answered faster than expected, and the approaching blush on her cheeks had heightened Riley's amusement. _Shit._ "I mean—, yeah, I've never ridden a horse before, and— the arcade, it was—. . . _Yeah_, it was fun." She excluded the four words that time, but by then, it was too late.

Riley's smirk grew and sprouted into a toothy grin. Shaking her head as she darted her eyes from Ellie and to her fully-eaten meal.

"Cool. I'll make sure to take you out more."

Yes, she designated those words to be said, in accordance with the ones of Ellie's. That little devil. The redhead's cheeks wanted to sizzle and fry up, of course, they both knew it was just fun and games, but she couldn't stop the blush from arising.

"Alright, sounds good."

Indeed, it was delightfully sweet.  
Fortunately for her, not everything had turned out bad during her first days in Boston.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

...

...

Strange, of all things, I never thought death would give you the feeling like you'd been sleeping on a soft mattress. There was a spray of lavender filling the air, scented candles?

Where was I?  
Purgatory? Was there a Heaven and Hell after all?

Had there always been the fragrance of cheap lifestyle pleasures?

The second thought came to mind.

_Where was Leon?_  
Then, the third and fourth.  
_And where's Ellie? Or the wretchedness of the bear?_

My eyes bolted up, and instead of finding myself in whichever dimension I'd ended up in, I had been relocated inside of a room, on a bed, with a snoozing girl sitting beside me, her head was resting on my blanketed stomach.

"Leon?" I managed to say it, and it had been enough to stir the girl on me. She raised her head, eyes with circles below them, the freckles sprinkled lightly across her face.

It took a while for her to examine me, she blinked once, and then twice.  
And then another time for the heck of it.

"You're awake..." Her emerald eyes brightened up, and eventually her whole face had done the same. "Jesus Christ, you're fucking awake."

She then proceeded to embrace me by wrapping her thin arms around my neck, if anything, I tried my best not to act like I'd been assaulted, my body ached under her arm.

"What happened?" I asked hazily, mind still a blur from everything.

"Riley-" Ellie was about to drop one of her I'll-talk-fast-because-I'm-hyperventilating stunts. "God-, I-I'm so sorry, you had me so fucking worried. Jesus, this was all my fault... T-there was this roar and everything in my life seemed to stop and we ran to check and there you were with this _huge_ fucking bear and Leon was on the ground and the bear was about to attack you again if they hadn't-"

"If they hadn't stopped it." I finished, a little slowly for both she and I to understand.  
"Yeah,"

...

"God, you look like hell. Have you slept?"  
Ellie shook her head, "If you're asking me, I think you should look at yourself, but I'm fine, you don't gotta worry about me."

"You should sleep, and I worry about a lot of things, Ellie. Like Leon, for instance."

She placed a hand on her creased forehead, "Oh, fuck. Yeah, Leon... he's fine, he's getting treatment by one of the doctors in the other rooms. The clinic's not the world's best-looking medical station... but it does the job." Ellie shrugged. "Joel carried you, and the rest took Leon. God, Riley-, that bear, whatever it did to you... you needed stitching near your neck and collarbone, the claws were fucking deadly... if they ever hit your artery-"

My hand had slowly trailed towards the said part of my body, a small clump of skin hit contact with the tips of my fingers.  
It still hurt.

"Ellie, I'm alive. You're fine, and I'm fine, we're all fine."  
"Fine?" she scoffed, "Sure, just a day ago, I thought I'd lost you."

I gave out a smirk, "But?" The voice was prolonging.

"_But,_ you're one lucky bastard." She pulled out her finger, swiping it brusquely on my nose.

"Yeah, you owe me now, though."  
"Owe you?" she wrinkled her brows together, "For what?"  
"For forcing me to do some jackass stunt like that."

She gave out a weak and disheveled chuckle in response, and Ellie had decided to lift her head to reach my cheek, kissing it in the process.

"Look, why don't we both go get some rest? Considering the fucking hell-ride it took to get here. Joel'll be back in a few hours, we got some time to take a little breather." she squeezed my hand, and I found my thumb rubbing the ball of her palm gently, stroking it with softness.

She continued to place her head on the top of my stomach, my hand never leaving hers.

"You're not sleeping back at your place?" I queried, voice quiet.

Ellie gave off a short mockery of breath, "I'm not leaving your side, Riley, you know that."

_She's not leaving my side. _I thought.

It does feel awfully nice to be loved, doesn't it?

You know, it was the small things that helped make my life such a tolerable experience.  
And being hospitalized in Jackson would finally allow me to say that I had no longer found the need to roam the lands to scavenge and hunt like nomads.

Why?

Because Jackson would soon be the closest thing to a home than any other goddamned place I've been to, and I planned for it to stay like that.

Permanently.

* * *

**Once again, _thank you so very much for reading! _It means a lot to me :)**

**Next chapter won't probably include intense stuff such as ferocious bears, but I expect it to be a light one. It's about time this fanfic had some more fluffs!**

**See you soon, and hopefully it won't take a month for the new one to arrive! Thanks for reading!  
-Taco**


	24. Promises of Spring

**Author's Note:**

**So, I'm back! And thank you, Guest-who-told-me-that-I-haven't-updated-in-three-weeks, you've made me panic and finish up!**

**This isn't as long as the previous 10k+ chapters, but it's probably a lot more happier and less dark.  
Continue on reading!**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º**

**Chapter Twenty-four: Promises of Spring**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**-JOEL-  
A DAY EARLIER**

Do you smell it?

The fumes of anxiety?  
Apprehension?  
The beads of sweat trickling down a man's neck?

The bear's yells had reverberated their eardrums — their everything. It shook the gates, it churned the digesting chemical components inside a human's stomach, it tickled the spines found within their backs. It _petrified _them.

Ellie's face and frame had not only lost color, but the howling wanted to make her bones rattle and break. The foreign sound had entered her hearing, such an odd display of shouting, of screaming.

_Roaring._  
Yes, that was the word.

She didn't take too long to grasp the situation of her significant other, somewhere inside the forests with the boy, with that roaring creature.

_Riley.  
_She had just experienced her first ordeal with the wild animal.

Riley's life then seemed to hang on a loose thread. And Ellie was there, watching it happen.  
Was she already being devoured whole? Was Leon beside her as they slept in the beast's belly?

All the possibilities, and Ellie couldn't stand it.

She needed to act.

She felt her feet shuffle, they were moving toward the sound like a magnet, her legs had mystically rejuvenated from the previous running. Desperate hands tried to grab her, restrain her; a Texan voice pleaded its way to her ears, but she shut it off like a rolling shutter.

"Ellie!"

Joel found himself square on the ground, watching the youngster as she sped off again. He followed her, almost instantly, her name finding its way in his vocal chords again. The two pushed through the gates, running into the Wyoming forest. Tommy, Maria, and other crowds of people had constructed themselves a wild goose chase, pursuing the man and his little girl.

From afar, it looked almost amusing.

Ellie had entered the greenery once more, only to be welcomed by branches and burrs that were scratching and sticking to her calf and sleeved arms. A voice from behind her yelled out her name, and again, she ignored it.

"Riley!" she shouted, arms acting as a shield to block the foliage that had an intention to hurt her eyes. It had been loud, enough for it to enter Joel's head. He had heard that name before.

_Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die._

Joel's muddled mind had elevated itself to a whole new level of complexion. He didn't quite understand it. She was running to the heart of the woods, the bear could be anywhere, ready to pounce about and gobble them up. She was calling a name, a name that belonged to someone who had ceased their existence from the world - or so Joel'd thought. Was this another Riley? Where exactly was Ellie leading them?

You know where this is going.

Tommy and the rest were fast enough to match their speed with Joel's, all of them too busy with chasing to communicate. Ellie's momentum didn't seem to slow, in fact, it might've even accelerated. Names of a red-flanneled girl and her mysterious friends had been filling the air. They were all coming from the redhead, the grizzled man, and the rest of their followers.

Ellie's eyes had stopped to focus once she hastened herself to a particular place. Her feet skidded to an abrupt stop as soon as she saw the flash of brown and the figures of two humans.

The bear.  
Riley and Leon.

The boy was on the ground, unconscious, the girl trying to resuscitate him.

The bear was just behind her.

Ellie's heart had stopped beating for a long, painful second.

It was a large and majestic animal, really. The moonlight was seemingly glimmering its brown fur. Flashlights had dotted the scenery with their artificial and blinding rays; the bear hadn't acknowledged this. It was too busy with vengeance.

It could smell the blood of its offspring on both the bodies of Riley and Leon.  
It wanted reprisal.

The bear's gigantic paw had been raised, another air-splitting roar filled everyone's ears. Riley's head snapped back in surprise, but it hadn't even made the full turn when the gigantic paw had swiped her with a force so strong, Ellie was almost sure it could have pulverized the girl to powder.

She found herself shrieking Riley's name in horror, her throat violently scratching the insides of her neck.

The pain delivered, a sickening sound of something being sliced flipped her stomach. Riley took no effort as she glided several feet away from the bear due to the impact, it had literally made her _fly_ and land to the ground.

There weren't any pillows to cushion her fall. It was a harsh one, and if the swipe wasn't enough to make her black out, then the landing would.

The bear, still wanting retaliation, approached an unconscious Riley, its claws were getting sharpened by the rocks below it.

Joel and the rest had arrived, all of them with the same expressions as Ellie's.

They were in horror.  
Disbelief.  
Confusion.

Tommy was the first to respond among the gaping folks.  
"Jesus, Mary and Josep—"

But — of course, a gunshot had rudely interrupted his blaspheme. As mentioned before, that day was a day of disruptions.

The smoke came out of the redhead's gun - the Enforcer, as she liked to call it. Its bullet zipped across the gap between her and the bear. It grazed its furry shoulder, knocking some brown hair out of its body. The bear cried out _terrifically_ in pain.

Matter of fact, it was _so_ terrific and loud that somewhere - not too far from the woods, a large amount of Infected forest-dwellers twisted their heads in excitement. They were alarmed, restless, and hungry.

They were permanently hungry.

They clicked, they moaned, they gurgled. Their fungi-covered bodies wriggled in turmoil, spit and spores were abundant everywhere.

They followed the roar.

The shot wasn't enough. A small bullet couldn't possibly take down a heavyweight animal, let alone a bear. It craned its large, brown-coated head at Ellie, it spotted the gun in her hands, black eyes as dark as the void in her mind. There was a red line trailing from the bullet hole and down to the grass, leaving its mark on the earth with subtlety. Riley seemed knocked out, a large claw-mark present on her clothes, blood was seeping out of it.

And Leon?  
Leon was dead to the earth, uncooperative, paralyzed.

The bear was running toward Ellie, roaring again, enormous limbs that were carrying a body, they were all coming at her.

She was about to run like any sane man would do in that situation, but fear's iciness had managed to freeze her feet on the ground like a stubborn root. Luckily, Joel's arms had instinctively pushed her away and had moved up to reach for a holster, the grip of leathery metal met his palm. He pulled it out, his long gun, a hunting rifle. _Perfect._

Everything seemed to slow down, there was no need for scoping, no need for assistance while aiming at an animal's head that was only seven feet away from him and his beloved companion. Joel's finger had greeted the trigger, and they both shook hands.

A sharp _boom_ had been emancipated, the crowd before them seemed to rumble, they had already gotten their guns out, but Joel had been the fastest to react.

The bear stopped running.

It dropped to the ground, a large _thud_ beating its way to their feet. The corpse's head was gruesomely disgusting and needed no further descriptions. Ellie found herself rooted, watching it motionless on the grass, the pool of spring blood was circling the pitiful, distressed animal. Silence seeded its way in, a brief moment to grieve the loss of nature's child.

...

...

Ellie whipped her head back to Riley and Leon, just a few meters away from the body of the bear. The inattentive crowed had provoked her.

"Fuck's sake — _help them!_" she cried out, thwarted by their aloofness. She sprinted at the two unconscious people, zipping past Joel, whom surprisingly was expecting a thank-you.

Yes, the human fallibility, always expecting something in return.

The entire group had dispersed quickly, bodies were kneeling down at the wounded and unresponsive boy. Riley had been sprawled out on the ground, rocks and ragged stones had decided to join her as she slept. Ellie's eyes had found the claw marks once she neared her, they were biting through the side of Riley's neck and all the way down to her upper black hoodie, digging its way to her skin.

"Shit." she cursed, not noticing her shaking hands.

It was a medium laceration wound, a good 12 inches long; black cloth was mixed with red fluids near her torn clothing, stitching was undoubtedly mandatory. Ellie held her breath as one of the guards pressed his ear on Riley's chest, hearing for a beat.

..

The man raised his head, neutrality plastered on his face.  
"She's alive." he exclaimed, making Ellie loosen the air.

"They need immediate medical attention," Maria sputtered, attempting to lift Leon up the ground with Tommy and some others. "Someone radio Graham at the clinic station to prepare two beds."

A man examining the bear had perked his head up. "Do we bring 'er in?" he asked, pointing a thumb toward the carcass.

"If you can. You, Vance, and the rest of the boys can get 'er before the Infected do." Tommy replied, assisting Maria as they continued to lift Leon. "Ain't no doubt that that thing'd drawn a bunch of those fuckers to us, we better move fast."

Joel nodded, his head turning to the distressed girl.  
"Ellie-"

But she stopped him, "I'll explain later," she muttered. "Just— fuck... please... help her out."

Of course, he had unwillingly complied, not so used to be the one obeying orders. He carried and held Riley in his arms, her limbs were moving limply, the blood still flowing out. Joel looked down at her, eyeing the girl for the first time.

At a typical view, she had small scars that weren't noticeable from afar, she had surprisingly smooth dark skin, her hair was tied to a bun, a spunk aura had been glowing weakly around her. This aura in particular had lured a nostalgic influence to wave over him, she reminded him a little of another feisty and spunky girl.

Joel blinked as he walked, and when he opened his eyes back,  
Riley was replaced with a pale-skinned girl.

Her blonde bob was swaying as they ambled, the freckles were sprinkled across her face. She donned on pajamas, a red splotch of blood was standing out near her stomach, eyes still open and wet.

Those eyes never left his stained memory.

"...Sar–..?"

He stopped walking, his grip on the girl almost unbinding. Joel blinked twice, and the phantom girl had vanished. The result gave him very, very mixed emotions.

This time, though, it was another life that'd decided to lay in his arms.

The next one had dark reddish hair tied messily in a ponytail, her face was holding a scarred brow. She had a few freckles similar to the girl before her. A bite mark was planted firmly on her right forearm, disfigured and bumpy, its appearance contrasted to that of the child's. There was a surgery gown draped over her, she was deep within a drugged dream.

Wonderful, not one, but _two_ hallucinations! Looks like the third charm wasn't coming anytime soon. He predicted that if he were to blink again, Riley was to return, completely ignoring the fact that he was losing it again for the thousandth time.

His expectations did not disappoint, a bleeding Riley had been back in his arms, like nothing had ever happened.  
And as he tried to make sense of what on _earth_ had just occurred in his ponderous head, an echo had sown itself straight into his mind without warning.

_Joel, you need to tell her._ Tommy's words reminded his conscience, _If you don't, she'll find out one way or another._

_It'll only be a matter of time before she does._

_.._

_.._

_.._

_You need to tell her._

_.._

_.._

_.._

"Joel!"

Ellie's impatient voice had cut his trance. The man looked up, she was standing a good distance ahead of him, the rest of the group were already on their way to the town. The forest arms from above seemed to be arched kindly down at her, like from a fantasy. It appeared like he was fixated there for an unacceptably long amount of time.

"We gotta move, okay?"

Joel adjusted his arms, making sure that the unconscious and medical-attention-seeking girl was comfortable in his grasp, though it didn't matter if she was or not, Joel had just felt the need to do it.

"Yeah, I'm comin', kiddo."

They headed back to Jackson in a hurried pace.

* * *

**A DAY LATER**

Having a healthy dosage of sleep ever since they arrived in Jackson, Ellie and Joel didn't seem so ecstatic when they'd been forced to have little to no rest as soon as they had returned to the town. The bear was dragged by less than a dozen men and women to some sort of slaughter house where livestock would meet their demise.

Now, before you judge, bear meat was explicitly delicious - depending, of course, on the bear's diet. The fur would certainly help them, to assist fabricating coats for the upcoming seasons.

It was only later did Ellie, Riley, and Leon become heavily reluctant to consume the bear meat, it was served to them like ham on a plate, in thin slices, accompanied with gravy and mashed potatoes.

It was a week after the incident, when Tommy had announced a feast for the people of Jackson. Each time they looked at the slice of meat, the bear's head would replace it, its teeth still bared, vengeance afire in its voided eyes.

They ate anyway, because food was food. You'd eat it up, and you didn't complain.

And in fairness, the bear tasted like venison. Sweeter venison. There was a very vague taste of huckleberry somewhere in the middle. They were lucky that the bear didn't have fish or deer as its diet, otherwise, they'd end up eating only the mashed potatoes.

But they didn't complain.

Though— let's focus on delivering the two teenagers to the clinic before anything else.

The medics had plopped Riley and Leon down on operating beds, working to get their wounds treated with any of the supplies they had.

Fortunately for Ellie, they had a confounded _surplus _of it.

It took a good 3-5 hours of waiting when one of the physicians had exited the room, approaching the soporific band of a man, his brother, his brother's wife, and a soon to be fifteen-years-of-age girl, all sitting on plastic chairs just near the rickety entrance of the clinic, their hands rubbing the sleep off of their crusted eyes.

The shabby, one-story building had probably been used as a former inn. It was a clinic that was located at the center grounds of Jackson. Maria's father had done the changing some years back before he passed away and moved leadership onto her and Tommy.

While they had been lingering, Ellie was given the opportunity to explain a little bit of everything, elaborating who the two teenagers were (excluding specific information about Riley and their knotty relationship), how they intervened, and how she knew the girl.

Joel, whom of course was told before that Riley was indicatively 'the first to die', was enlightened upon realizing that she had survived the fall.

"And you somehow managed to find her in the same forest, and in the same blasted state?" Tommy whistled lightly. "I'll be damned."

"Yeah, luck's all out now. I guess that bear was payback, huh?"  
Tommy chuckled softly, his sleepy voice still containing some of his signature jauntiness."Don't jinx yourself, I'm sure your friends're gonna be fine."

Ah, bonding.

In all light, Joel was amused to be seeing this kind of surrogate uncle-niece intimacy being forged right before him. He smirked subconsciously, glancing over at Maria. Her arm was propped up on the plastic armchair, a hand resting on her cheek. Her weighted eyes were gazing at Tommy and Ellie, causing a small smile to introduce itself on her lips.

Moving on to the plot, Ellie was apprehensive as always. And when the medical practitioner had arrived an hour after the bonding, she was the first to notice.

It was not even socially acceptable for one to stand up before an approaching person so early, yet she had unsurprisingly broken the rules, causing the dozing adults below her to stir awake.

"Well?" she queried to the medic, it was almost too quickly.  
The physician gave off a modest shrug, "They'll get through."

Ellie had probably given out the most exaggerated sigh of relief that day, hands were finding themselves on her forehead. "Fucking hell." she exhaled.

Joel had arisen from his chair, he scratched the itch on his beard lazily, one of his famous idiosyncrasies. "What's the full report?" he broadly asked.

It was only when all of them had stood up from their chairs and neared the medic did he finally proceed. The practitioner looked aged, probably two years younger than Joel. His respective uniform wasn't necessary at all, considering the moth holes, but it looked like he wanted them to know his profession.

His shaved face moved in correspondence with his mouth, "They've been drugged during the whole process. Both of them have received subcuticular suturing, just to be safe, I advise that you come back in two weeks in case the stitches haven't dissolved. The boy's been injected with tetanus and rabies immunizati—"

"Can we see them?" Ellie interrupted, she wasn't particularly interested in hearing the medical mumbo-jumbo.

He eyed her, as if despising, but his scowling look was replaced with patience. "The boy's still being treated by our doctors, as I said, we're still testing if the immunization had worked. You can see the girl, though she isn't awake. We're not certain if she'll be induced in a comatose or not–"

_Comatose,_ the word clicked in her head, negativity followed afterward.

"She's in a fucking _coma?_" she blurted out again, Ellie's relief was by then fictional.  
Joel stepped in, a paternal side of him trying to calm the girl. "What he means is that they ain't sure whether or not she'll be in one, Ellie. You gotta settle down a bit."

"The impact blacked her out immediately." added the medic. "She's been out cold ever since, not the first time either, I assume. She's had too much head trauma."

_Of course._ she thought. _Luck had to run out._

Riley's blasted escapes from the clutches of death were enviable; she had survived too many incidences, clambering out of the slippery bowl of annihilation, and then proceeding to laugh at Death's face as she staggered to the ground with her gangly knees.

Maybe it was too much, maybe Death couldn't stand the mockery anymore.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't dare to laugh at such an omnipotent force.  
Riley, however, was pushing her luck.

And her luck at that time appeared to be standing at the edge of a cliff.

"I need to see her. Please." Ellie's hands were balled up to a fist.

Tommy and Joel exchanged glances, the girl was sleep deprived and edgy, clearly it wasn't a good mix. The older brother gave out a quick bob of the head after a good pause, "What room's she in?"

The medic gestured to the direction. "Down the hall, to the right."

"I'll bring her there," Maria offered. "Tommy, get that report on paper, would you?"  
"Yeah, I got it." He browsed his eyes up to a slightly leaning wall clock, stating that it was early in the morning, probably a few hours before the sun would rise from the Wyoming landscape.

"Shit," he mumbled to no one. "Briefing's in a few minutes. Goddamned Dennis, holding one at this time of the day..."

Both Maria and Ellie had left the three of them to discuss about medical matters, the woman's hand resting on the girl's shoulder. She tensed upon contact, and Maria casually retracted it back, shrugging off the action like nothing as they continued to walk.

"Don't worry, she'll get through." she urged.

The girl wanted to scream at her, _How about you let me fucking worry?  
_Certainly, Maria knew nothing of Riley but the information she was given earlier!

But Ellie knew better than that, it was just the crankiness dominating her nature. She took a deep breath, calming herself.

"We'll see." was all she said.

When they arrived, the blond woman had opened the door that was supposedly Riley's. Ellie entered the room with haste, a whiff of lavender zooming past her nose.

It was a small chamber, since the building was a previous inn, it looked more like a guest's room than a patient's. Aged wallpapers were plastered across, though it wasn't torn or ragged. When the door was opened and Ellie had emerged, there was a bed to her right — small but snug. A girl was wrapped with sheets, lying on the bed, her eyes were peacefully closed.

Her chest was heaving — _in, and out. In, and out._  
It was a clear indication that Riley Abel was still thankfully alive.

Ellie wasn't entirely convinced, she could be in a coma for all she knew. Nevertheless, the redhead took no time to get to her, calling Riley's name in caring concern. She dragged a chair from a table that had the scented candles on and plopped it down next to Riley's bed.

Maria was still by the doorway, somewhat perplexed by her demeanor toward Riley. Ellie spoke nothing else, she was sitting beside her now, conscious enough knowing that Maria was still in the room.

You could cut the tension with a knife, and Maria could decipher the already obvious signal that she felt a need to leave, before she was about to abruptly clear her throat, a transmission came in over her radio to do it for her.

The woman on the other side had mentioned something about a briefing. Maria responded shortly after, probably about to head off to the meeting hall.

Before she exited the room, she turned to the girl. "Ellie?"  
The redhead's back was facing her, and she turned sideways.

"Yeah?"

"Tommy and I're attending a briefing pretty soon, Joel might come along." she said. "You'll be fine, right?"

"Oh. Yeah, I'll be good here."

"Just tell Graham up front if you'd like to radio us, okay? If you need anything, just call." Her tone was motherly and tender.

Ellie smiled, grateful for her thoughtfulness. "Sure, no problem. Thanks."  
"All right."

Maria bobbed her head, meaning that it was a nod of farewell. She went out of the door and closed it behind her, allowing the two girls some privacy.

Ellie hadn't done much so far other than to stare at her. Blinking every now and then when Riley gave out a reflexive twitch on her face that the girl thought of as _cute. _Her head was tilted slightly to the right, arms buried snugly under the heap of blankets. The sight had made a familiar memory to relive itself in Ellie's thoughts.

**o-O-o**

It was a chilly autumn dawn in the Boston quarantine zone. And Ellie had woken up early in excitement, preparing herself for a plan she'd been crafting for quite a while.

She scampered off to the mall where Riley had regularly brought her to. Though this time, Riley was too occupied with other things to come along with her.

It was the perfect time for Ellie to follow up with her plan.

What was this plan?

You'll know soon enough.

She visited Winston in his tent, where she found him sitting in front of a desk, his back facing her, he was scrawling something down on a journal.

"Hey, Winston." she announced, casually allowing herself inside the tent. She sat on his bed, awaiting his acknowledgement.

The soldier gave out a gruff of air, not bothering to look behind him. "Little early, ain't it?" He flipped a page from his journal and continued to write. Clearly, he was used to having visitors who were unknown to house manners.

..

"Have you—"

"Before you start," Winston groaned. "I already found the damn toys you were askin' me to get."

He placed the pencil beside his journal and stood up, his tall frame made his head touch the roof's ceiling. Winston approached a personal trunk of items behind him. From the chest, he pulled out a medium-sized sack bag with the said objects.

He handed it over to her, and Ellie peered inside the sack, bringing out two toy guns the size of a larger pistol. It wasn't exactly the ideal waterguns she would see in advertisements, but she was happy to have received something even remotely similar.

"Sweet!" she grinned, it'd been the first pair of waterguns she'd gotten. "Thanks, Winston."

The soldier frowned. "Took me three bullets and mild back pain to get those toys, girl. This is a trade, not some free giveaway."

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, don't worry, I got the shit you wanted." She reached for the inside pocket of her dark green jacket, revealing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Here,"

Winston's face brightened in delight, his cardboard-texture added creases to his forehead as a smile emerged out of his beard. "Ah, there we have it."

He opened the pack and brought out a stick, firing it up with the given lighter. Embers escaped out of the cigarette's end, smoke was exhaled out of his mouth, causing the girl in front of him to cough.

"Horrible, but addictive." he shrugged, Winston pulled out another stick, extending it toward Ellie. "Want a smoke?"

She shook her head, hand covering her nose as the smoke clouded up inside the tent. "No thanks," she said in between hacking.

"Alright, live a long miserable life, why don't you."

If you're asking, Ellie had gotten the cigarettes from the pockets of an unsuspecting juvenile. The lighter on the other hand, took three dumpster-dives to scavenge.

"Where's Princess?" the girl asked, peering outside of the tent where the horse was usually stationed at. Only this time, the humid air took the mare's place.

Winston held the cigarette between his index and middle finger. "Bein' spoiled. Old girl's gettin' pampered better than I am." he scoffed at himself, earning another inhale of smoke. "What's with the toys, anyway?"

The smoke blinded her again, another cough erupting from her throat. Before she was going to answer, Winston had figured it out himself.

"Oh, of course. You and that _girl._" he snorted. "The only fools I know who'd waste their time livin' by goofin' off with crap like that would probably be you two."

Ellie gave off a cheeky grin. "It's not wasted time if you enjoy it, my friend."

He chuckled, two short snorts of puffy air. "Wiser than you look, I'll tell you that."

"I'll take that as a compliment." she beamed. "Thanks for the guns."  
"Careful with their recoil," Winston winked, "packs a punch."

The girl laughed and waved him off, exiting out of the tent. "Mental note written."

She ran off and climbed the wall, which led to the mall's roof and later would bring her back to the school. The sack lagged behind her as she climbed the fence that separated her from home, the girl's feet dropped clumsily to the ground and she walked back to her dorm building. Ellie crept up cautiously to her and Riley's floor, stopping first by the shower rooms to fill the guns with water.

She filled the tanks to the brim, a smug smile sticking to her face as she imagined her scheme following accordingly to plan. Ellie arrived noiselessly to her room, dropping off her backpack and grabbing the two pistol-sized water guns from the sack with both hands.

In an early autumn morning where winter would soon arrive, a girl in a military school was preparing to surprise her sleeping friend with a water splash to the face.

The joys of childhood and the beginning sparks of love, dear readers.

When Ellie had snaked her way to Riley's dorm, she opened the door in a very sloth-like manner, taking almost a full minute for her to squeeze through the tiny gap without any noise that would probably be sufficient enough to wake the girl.

She eyed the lump on the bed to her right. Ellie tiptoed toward her, a watergun aimed at the ceiling, Riley's back was facing her, giving Ellie some imaginary assurance that she wouldn't detect her.

But when she was just inches away from the bed, Riley stirred in her dreams and turned to the other side. Ellie stopped and paused her breathing, if she were to awake at that moment, the redhead's plan would be ruined.

Ellie took another lengthy amount of time paused in place, her eyes looking at the closed ones of Riley's. She never really got the chance to look at her fondly without being called a creep. She found out later that Riley had an interesting face-twitch every now and then when she slept, she found this adorable, but kept it to herself.

Now that she thought about it, she was starting to _like_ the girl.

There was just something about Riley that attracted her in a way, and Ellie hated it.

She hated how she was able to obtain a crush on _her,_ Riley, out of all people. Her prettiness was an obvious candidate on how it was possible, but it was most probably her personality, her... Riley-ness.

Her face—at the same time—was smooth and sharp, capable of holding a fierce expression that made Ellie want to cling to her. While staring, she wondered how it would feel like to cuddle her in bed, to rest her head on her shoulder, to embrace her sides... to _kiss_ her.

She remembered the hug on the first day they met, and that was just three weeks ago.

Ellie repeated the last suggestion over and over in her head.  
_Kiss her,_ her conscience screamed. _She won't know._

She bent down slightly so that she would level with the bed, her face was now nearing the softly dozing girl. Something else was manipulating her.  
_C'mon,_ it tormented her again, _be quick about it!_

Another side of her—the more logical one—was debating and measuring the consequences.

_What the hell are you doing? She's your friend, you can't crush on her!  
_

_If she wakes up now, you're fucked.  
You don't like her. You don't. You don't._

Ellie prepared to close her eyes, she never kissed someone before, so her experience was as good as nothing. Her heart was hammering, the plan that she had just minutes ago seemed non-existent. She felt the need to link her lips to hers, to kill the drive she had for her, to satiate the curiosity.

She liked Riley. It was apparent to her, and she didn't care anymore.  
She wanted to kiss her.

But before their noses could brush against each other, Ellie heard the sharp hitch of breath out of Riley. Her mind snapped out of the strange hypnosis, and Ellie found herself horrified at what she was planning to do. She was about to yank back, but Riley's eyes had instantly opened, brown pupils finding its way on her surprised green ones.

Ellie felt like a frozen deer on a crossroad. Completely helpless.  
_Shit. Shit shit shit._

In a split second of decision, Ellie remembered the guns in her hand. She lifted them up in quick haste, pushing the triggers harshly, making the water squirt out of the gun and splash on Riley's newly-awoken face and body.

"Surprise!" Ellie yelled as naturally as she could do. Riley's perturbed shouts followed up shortly after that.

The redhead couldn't help but laugh. Both at the girl's reaction and at how lucky she was to have acted on time.

Riley was now drenched, _in her bed._ Her sheets were sprinkled and her face was soaked. A cough of bewilderment escaped her lips, sleepy and alarmed eyes looking back at her in shock.

..

..

"Rise and shine?" Ellie chuckled childishly, shaking the guns at her in torment.

..

Riley leaped out of bed, pouncing ravenously at her. "You _bitch!_"

They tumbled together on the floor, not caring at all if they awoke anyone in the next rooms. Laughter filled the air, an entanglement of limbs and arms were wrestling at each other, Riley's hands were slick with water.

She managed to steal a watergun from Ellie, and then proceeded to fire it at her face. Ellie screamed in response, pushing Riley off of her body and finding cover from the forceful surges.

They spent the next ten minutes of insane enjoyment drenching each other with small waterguns. And when their tanks had ran out, they stood facing each other, bodies soaked and shivering as the cold air of autumn pricked at the water.

They both stared at each other, silence found its way in the water-abundant room. They laughed it off, finishing the eventful morning by mopping the floor and bed with used shirts, afraid of the Corporal finding out. Once they were done, they filled the guns with water again, only this time, they played a round at the mall later in the afternoon.

Indeed, it was a beautiful autumn morning.

**o-O-o**

Ellie smiled at the memory, chuckling at their first days of friendship (and possibly, love). She took Riley's hand and intertwined it with hers, stroking and caressing it with care. Riley seemed stubbornly asleep, and Ellie stood up slightly from her chair, making it so that she was able to kiss her softly and longingly on the lips. Just to make up for that autumn day in Boston.

Inconveniently, Joel had quietly opened the door, but only slightly halfway. It was enough for him to peer inside, only to see Ellie's back,

And finding her kissing the girl with softness.

Whoops.

Knowing that Ellie hadn't seen him yet, Joel closed the door with the same quietness as the first time, his hand still linked to the doorknob.

..

He stood there for so long, in front of the door that led to the room of Riley's. He blinked once, twice, thrice, and then a numerous amount of times. He didn't notice his flushed face, or the strange pace of his beating heart. He pictured it again, Ellie kissing the girl he hardly even knew.

..

Perhaps he should have knocked.  
_Perhaps. _Hah.

Joel breathed uneasily, not quite sure on what he was feeling. He looked back at the door before putting three steady knocks on it with his knuckles, attempting to enter the room again, this time by knocking _first._

He heard the footsteps of the girl, his heart raced.

Seconds after, Ellie had nonchalantly opened the door, her expression transformed to mild puzzlement upon seeing the man whom was supposedly off to a meeting with Tommy and Maria.

"Oh," she said. "Hey, back so soon?"

Joel scratched the back of his head, "Actually... I uh," he trailed off. "...was just about to leave, thought I'd go check up on you."

The door was fully open, he looked over Ellie's shoulder, his eyes on an unconscious Riley.  
"She... uh, alright over there?"

Ellie glanced back before returning to Joel.  
"I guess she is." she shrugged. "Not in a coma, I hope."

..

..

"Look, Ellie, I.. ah—..." Joel wasn't always the one who found the right words. He wanted to tell her about it, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

It felt un...conferrable..

"I..." he was mumbling again. "...I'll head over to the briefin', alright? I'll be back in a few hours, just... take care, okay?"

Ellie internally chuckled, not quite sure why he was acting so peculiarly.  
If only she knew.

"Yeah, I'll watch out for myself, old man. I'll just be here, after all." she smiled.

"Okay," And then absurdly, for no reason at all, Joel allowed a nervous-as-hell smile to grow on his mouth. It seemed so out of place, like someone had painted it on his beard. Ellie gawked at him, completely mystified. He smiled awkwardly for what appeared to be too long, and the young girl gave off a short snort.

"Joel?"  
"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

The smile thankfully dissipated from his lips, and he found himself still at the doorway, with Ellie in front of him, looking up at the man with amusement and concern.

"Oh, I'm fine, fine." he driveled, nodding once. "Just... just remembered somethin',"

And by _something,_ he meant seeing Ellie pecking Riley softly on the lips.  
No, it didn't disgust him. He wasn't angered by it, either.

He just found it bothering that he hadn't talked to her about it. Hell, Joel didn't even know if she and Riley were officially more than friends. For all he knew, Ellie might have just tried to make sense of what a kiss felt like.

Sarah never really had any crushes or relationships, so Joel was certainly foreign to dealing with issues like this.

Of course, she was probably too young to have one in the first place. Maybe she had eyes on a particular boy at soccer training, but probably kept it to herself, much like what Ellie was doing now. Joel scratched the back of his head, confused and uncomfortable.

"I'll come back, okay?" he said, his tone soft and strange.  
"Okay." Ellie smiled back, "Don't take too long."

"I won't. Take care, kiddo."

Joel turned on his heel, and began walking out of the clinic as naturally as he could.

"You too," Ellie called out from behind.

_Damn it._

When he arrived at the outside entrance of the clinic, he breathed out deeply. A swivel of questions were circling around his head. It gave him a slight migraine, and Joel shook out of his endeavor, finally proceeding to the meeting hall without over-thinking too much.

Yet another topic to talk to Ellie about.

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

For the second of the four days where Riley and Leon were temporarily hospitalized, I felt like a caregiver.

Or—more specifically—Riley's slave.

Before you go ahead and ask me how I agreed to this proposition – the guilt overtook me, alright? I've placed Riley in too much hazards, the least I could do was be obligated to follow her for a day.

And boy, was it a fucking pain.

Don't get me wrong, I was pretty thankful and relieved knowing that they were going to be alright. Especially Riley. Taking care of Leon was also a part my duty that Joel, Tommy, and Maria had appointed me with. Courtesy to them for my upcoming sourness.

_But,_

Compared to dealing with Riley, taking care of him was a piece of fucking cake.  
The things that I'd do for the boy were pretty simple, get his food tray from the clinic station up front, give it to him, make sure he didn't need anything else, and that was it.

But Riley?  
Oh, she _enslaved_ me.

Like, I would have to manually _feed_ her.  
She wasn't even incapable of feeding herself, she could do just fine drinking a glass of water. But food? No, no, she needed me to spoon-feed her _everything._

The day after she awoke, she reminded me that I owed her, and to be honest, I really did. So I told her that I would be willing to execute whatever she wanted me to do for a whole day.

Regret came in pretty early after that.

"I'm kind of hungry." she mentioned on the second day, her smirk being as evil as it was before. She was sitting upright on her bed, a tray of food that I gave her was on top of her lap.

I scrunched my brows, "I gave you soup, didn't I?"  
"Yeah, but," she gave out a horrible impression of a grimace. "My arms _really_ hurt right now."

"I'll get you a straw."  
Riley gave up the act. "Ellie—"

"I'm not gonna fucking feed you, Riley."

"_But,_ we had a deal."

"You can stick that deal up your rear."  
"Oh, c'mon, quit being a bitch about it. And hey - you agreed to this, I didn't force you to."

..  
..

I felt like grabbing the bowl of soup and plunging it on her head, arguments like that would've ended easily if I wasn't so conflicted.  
But hey, I'm a nice person, and nice people do good things for the ones they love. Therefore, after contemplating for five seconds...

"I swear, you're _so_ owing me back after your ass gets out of this place."  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." she chuckled. "Let's hurry up, I'm starving."

I groaned loudly, dipping the spoon in her chicken soup, the liquid still hot and steaming. Probably like my temper at that given moment.

Before I fed the nutritious liquid over to Riley, her mouth was clamped tight, a peculiar expression was scrawled on her face as if the soup had been alienated.

No, I did not poison it. Why would I?

What do you take me for, a psychopath?  
Alright, maybe I was — just a little.

"What?" I grumbled. "You want me to airplane this shit for you?"

...

...

"Could you please blow on it?"

"You can fucking blow me, Riley."

The things I do for love.

* * *

**-RILEY-**

Four days after being hospitalized, Leon and I were officially well enough to get out of our beds. It'd been a while since I saw him, and there wasn't much difference other than the bandaged stomach.

Okay, maybe there _was_ a difference.  
I now have this long scar starting from the left side of my neck and all the way down to my right torso. There were still stitches, and I was told to wait for it to dissolve and come back to the clinic for a quick checkup.

In short, I looked pretty badass.

Leon and I gave out a few jokes, hoping that whoever would see our scars would ask what happened.

"Let's say we got attacked by sharks." I suggested.  
He shrugged. "I don't know, bear attacks are pretty cool as it is."

"Yeah, but yours was a bear _cub._ Not really impressive."  
"Shut up, Riley."

We waited for Ellie to arrive at the clinic, whom later was escorted by three adults. There was a woman with short, shining blond hair, a man with dirty blond, and another grizzly person.

That man, God, he looked a lot more intimidating than the other two.  
He had black graying hair, a full beard that was well-trimmed, and an aura that made you think he'd tear you apart if you looked at him wrong.

And to think that Ellie said he carried me to the clinic, how thoughtful.

"That's gotta be Joel." I muttered under my breath.  
Leon overheard me. "What?"

"Nothing."

I beckoned for the boy beside me, and we stood up from the clinic bench, proceeding to exit out of the building as we both breathed in the fall season air.

Ellie quickened her walking, hugging the both of us with affection as she ran over.  
"Hey, you two."

"Hi," we chorused.

The man who looked less like an aggressor jogged over to us. "Leon, Riley." he acknowledged. "I'm Tommy, this is my wife, Maria. Ellie's been sayin' a lot 'bout you kids."

The woman walked over so that we could properly introduce ourselves, there were shaking of hands and nodding of heads. Tommy asked how were we doing, how well we were healing up, and other casual questions that people would normally ask. The other man eventually came over to us, his long-sleeved navy polo shirt whipping against the wind.

"That there's my geezer-of-a-brother, Joel." Tommy joked, the man gave him an arched brow, a vague smirk arriving on his mouth.

His eyes landed on Leon first, and he bobbed his head. "Leon," he said. "Yeah, Ellie here's been tellin' 'bout you, sorry to hear about your... uh..." He was going to say _father_, but had trailed off, not wanting to finish.

I bet you ten bucks that the boy was internally squirming.

"It's fine, and yeah, nice to meet you." he managed to say. And I applaud him for containing the firmness in his voice.

And then, Joel moved his eyes onto me.  
I definitely _did not_ squirm.

He had soft hazel ones, his pupils. Not really fitting to his character, if you ask me. He stared at me for a while longer, and I was opposed to just stand there like an idiot, allowing him to scan me from top-to-bottom, like I was a foreign object. What could I do? I wasn't going to tell him to stop staring at me, that'd be rude. And stupid.

"Riley, right?"  
I nodded my head quick, swallowing a lump in my throat.

Joel tugged the sides of his mouth, and there appeared to be a flash of nervousness in his face.

Nervousness?  
He suddenly seemed so fidgety and awkward, a hell lot different than what he appeared to be a few minutes ago. He scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes from me.  
"Oh, yeah. Ellie told me about you, too. S'nice to meet you." he mumbled.

Okay. It went kind of like this.

All five us had been standing out of the clinic, talking and knowing more from each other. All the while, I caught Joel glancing at me every now and then in my peripheral. Now, not only did I find it extremely uncomfortable and creepy, but I was curious, so I did the same.

We basically took turns glancing at each other while talking, and after doing it tons of times, both our eyes moved to view each other at the same moment.

Shit.

Okay, okay, I panicked. So I frantically looked away. Shit. Now he knew that I was staring at him. _Shit again._ Maybe now he was assuming that I fancied him or something.

Him? Joel? _Fancy?  
_

I visually gagged.  
Sorry, couldn't help it. How could I _not_ gag?

Leon, whom was still beside me, turned and arched a brow. "Are you okay?"  
The chattering stopped, and now I had five pairs of fucking eyes glued on me.

"Yeah, I just..." I thought of a reasonable excuse. "I'm just dizzy and all for being in that room for so long, don't worry, I'm good."

Ellie looked baffled, but the expression dropped when Maria lured all our attention at her.

"Okay, now that we're all set... Leon, Riley, breakfast's coming soon. You hungry?"

The boy placed a hand on his stomach, his voice sounded predatory. "Pretty damn famished."

"Great, we'll introduce you guys and show you 'round while we head there." Tommy grabbed the radio found on his shirt-pocket, uttering some kind of command on the other end. We walked on the pavement, the three adults in front, leading us to wherever the mess hall was located.

Leon was on my left, while Ellie was on my right. She looked at me, smiling as she grabbed my hand and squeezed it softly. The boy beside me inaudibly groaned.

"How's first impressions?" she whispered to me.  
"You weren't kidding about Joel." I shook my head.

"Yeah, you'll warm up to him. Maybe. Hopefully."

"Hey, about that owing thing. You done coming up with something that I should do for you?"  
"Nah, still thinking. I'm also slightly pissed at you for that whole 'enslavement' thing, by the way."

I chuckled. "You placed that on yourself, you agreed to do it."  
"I had to massage you, Riley. Fucking spoon-feed you, fluff your pillow—"

"And I loved every second of it."

She let go of my hand, and proceeded to punch my shoulder, making me bump into Leon.  
"Jesus—" he indignantly sighed. "If you two are gonna fight, make it between yourselves, for fuck's sake."

"Sorry," I replied, laughing. "Ellie can be a bitch sometimes."  
"Charmed to hear that." she muttered.

Leon jammed his hands into his pockets, blowing his hair out of his face as the wind played around with it. We passed by homes and crowds of people, a child's ball had wandered and arrived on our feet. Leon picked it up and handed it back to the kid, a toothless smile beaming on his child face. "Thanks, mister."

The kid ran back to his group of friends, kicking the ball toward a nearby girl who was calling his attention.  
I smirked at him. "Wow, did I just _see_ you do an act of kindness?"

"Yeah, Riley, I have a heart. Crazy, I know." Leon turned to Ellie. "How long've you been in Jackson, anyways?"  
She shrugged. "Roughly two weeks. You should see the mess hall, pretty damn huge."

"I'm _excited_ to," he declared. "Man, I'm so hungry, could eat a goddamned horse."

"Well, considering that statement," Ellie said. "I hope you guys like bear meat."

* * *

**-JOEL-**  
**FIVE DAYS LATER**

After the breakfast feast that they had, Riley and Leon had been introduced to a quaint, one-story house found relatively close to Joel and Ellie's. It had four rooms: two bedrooms, a bathroom, and the living room which also accounted as the kitchen and dining place. For the five days, Ellie was found running off to their house, only rarely visiting the woods which she seemed so accustomed to before Riley and Leon arrived in Jackson.

Joel had conflicted opinions.

For one, the picture of Ellie kissing her was still plastered on his mind. He regarded the two teenagers as good people, they certainly adapted quite well to their sudden home. Secondly, Ellie had been spending lesser and lesser time with Joel, and more with the two teenagers. He would wake up early, only to find the house empty, a note would be left on the table saying that Ellie had went to Riley and Leon's, and would come back before dinner.

The solitude gave him time to think, reflect, contemplate about several things.  
The lie being at the top of the list.

Perhaps Ellie and Riley were just friends, and what the redhead had done was just out of experimental curiosity. Joel had tried to recall any instance where he saw the two of them doing something rather intimate, but the only memory was the one at the clinic.

He should talk to her about it. He _must_ talk to her about it.  
But he didn't know how. Being a father again seemed impossible.

And that was where the thinking helped him.

On the fifth day after the feast, a suggestion clicked in his mind.  
Swimming.

Yes, the promise he told Ellie during April, telling her that he'd show her the ropes, so that maybe in their next incredulous adventure, she wouldn't need a pallet every time the waters separated her from the destination.

_Yeah, I'll teach her at the pond. _he thought. _Spend some time with her, maybe even confront her about it._

When Ellie arrived back home from Riley and Leon's, Joel had called for her upstairs.

Interested, she climbed up and arrived in his room.

"What'd you need me for?" she queried, her face expecting a serious response.

"I... uh," he stammered. "I was thinkin'... since we haven't really done much... I, I was wonderin' if you'd like me to... uh, teach you some swimmin' lessons at the pond...if you don't feel like it, it's fine. Maybe some other time..."

There was a short pause, but in those brief seconds Joel was dreading for the worst response. Maybe Ellie wasn't interested in bonding with him anymore, maybe the lie he crafted for her distanced themselves too much. Maybe she'd give off an excuse, or beat around the bush. His throat clenched, awaiting her feedback.

But in lieu of rejection, Ellie's emerald eyes had sparkled. "Seriously?" she gaped at him. "No way, you're not fucking with me, are you?"

A surprised Joel nodded in confirmation. "Mmm-mm, I'm serious."

The girl gave out a squeal of happiness, her arms finding its way to his neck as she hugged him childishly for a brief moment. "It's about time!" she exclaimed, drawing back. "When? Next week?"

"Tomorrow."  
"Tomo—?" she squealed again, landing herself onto Joel's bed. "Oh, man."

He laughed, amused at his companion's reaction. "Calm down, kiddo."

She quickly exited out of Joel's room, getting her backpack and returning back.

"What do I wear?"

He rubbed his chin, "If you got somethin' like a plain top and shorts, that'd be good. You don't want the clothes slowin' down your swimmin'."

"Like, without sleeves? What about my bite?"

He thought for a moment. "We'll bandage it, like you got hurt or somethin', we can bandage your other arm to make it look like some kind of trend you got up."

"A trend," she scoffed. "Alrighty."  
Ellie took out a plain blue shirt from her backpack, along with a pair of black women's board shorts that she found in a department store some months back (it reminded her of one day going to the beach, so she took it off the hangers).

She placed the clothes on the bed and presented the outfit to him, "Is this good?"  
Joel nodded. "Yeah, that'll suffice."

She folded the shirt and shorts, and placed it back in her bag, a goofy grin present on her mouth the whole time.  
"Oh man, you're actually gonna teach me how to swim. I thought you forgot about the promise."

"Me? Forgettin'?" he looked surprised. "Of course not. I'd never forget, baby girl."

_Baby girl._

It'd been a while since she heard him address her as that. She remembered the first time, in a burning restaurant, smoke filling her lungs, her ribs broken and damaged, two caring arms were wrapped around her, telling her that it was okay — over and over again.

She didn't acknowledge the memories of a cannibalistic man, it was left in the darker parts of her mind, left untouched and dirty. She only remembered Joel's warmth, and the newly-made connection between them. She remembered his promise to her, that he'd never leave her again.

A promise that Joel knew he was trying so hard not to break.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile, before giving him another daughterly hug that reminded Joel of a blonde little girl.

* * *

**So I've been thinking of a sequel.  
**

**Now, before you go ahead and state whatever you want to say, I'm still debating whether or not I'll make a sequel. This story is sadly ending soon, and it pains me to say that. I love this fanfic, and I love all of you who feel the same way!**

**I've been thinking of the plot already, and yeah, I'm still not sure. But let's focus on the present right now.**

**Thank you so much for reading, leave a review for what you think! See you in the next chapter!  
-Taco**


	25. Red-Handed

**A/N:**

**What can I say? I'm a lazy bum.**

**As you can see by the title, this story is under construction!  
Now, for those readers who'd like to see what I changed so far, here's a nifty ol' changelog :D**

**_Changelog:_**

_MAJOR REVISIONS:_

_**Chapters 1-5, 10-12, 21.**_

\- Changed title names.  
\- Added a prologue.  
\- Turned flashbacks into Third-Person.  
\- Remade the middle part of chapter 10, fully reconstructed chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 11, and 21.  
\- Changed Leon's introduction to suit better.  
\- More consistent and less "I"s in First-Person narratives.

_MINOR REVISIONS_

\- Basically the rest of the chapters. Minor revisions are grammar fixes, spelling mistakes, and changes that don't affect the story line.

**I _really, really, really _recommend re-reading for my old followers just to refresh 'em a little. Considering the updated chapters, what d'you got to lose?**_  
_

**That's it so far, continued A/N will be in post-script :)**

* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-Five: Red-Handed**

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**-JOEL-  
****7:37 AM**

The transition from night to morning appeared longer than usual.  
But today was the day, and both Joel and Ellie knew it well.

The girl seemed rather enthusiastic, having already worn her respective swimming clothes by the time dawn broke and kissed the sky. Once she had been done dressing up and bandaging her bite mark, Ellie ambled across the second floor hallway to Joel's quarters. When she had opened the door and had found out that the Texan was still sound asleep, she crept up to his bed; shoving, pushing, and shaking the man until he would wake up from his slumber.

In all honesty, anyone other than Ellie Williams would be smart enough to not rouse an _enthralling_ man such as Joel in his sleep.  
But it seems that the father-daughter sort of intimacy has some advantages.

He reluctantly stirred, eyes opening to meet his assaulter. A scowl had drawn itself on his lips, only to die briefly after realizing that it had been Ellie.

"Joel," she said, her hands appeared dwarfed against his, "c'mon."

From his mouth, he spilled out a sloppy pile of groans. Ellie was far from pleased.

"Jesus, you sleep like a rock." She paused. "Now that I think about it, you _resemble_ a rock."

Ooh, that hit him.

Joel's mouth twitched. "I'm up, I'm up."  
Grunting, he lifted himself up from the bed, donned on him were boxers and a plain tee that he had salvaged from a luggage bag, they had served as his favorite sleeping attire. Being sentimental as he was, it would be the closest thing to a once normal lifestyle.

And so, in a wondrous household, a young girl was waiting for her paternal figure to dress up. Joel had shooed Ellie away after arising from the bed, making her wait outside of the room until he was done changing his apparel. The redhead was still rather drowsy, for by the time the man was all dressed and exited out of the room, he found her sitting against the wall, hugging her knees as she unconsciously slept in a strange upright fetal position.

Joel scratched his head, smiled, and roused the girl up.  
When Ellie groaned and squirmed in her interrupted slumber, the man resulted to shaking her uncouthly, very much similar to what Ellie did to him.

By the third shake, Ellie's knees gave way, and she rolled to the floor with all fours sprawled, grumbling rather adorably in her half-sleep, the ponytail had loosened and allowed her reddish brown hair to spread uniformly.

Joel smirked.  
"You ain't such a bad rock yourself, kiddo."

* * *

Flash forward some minutes later, when Joel had successfully woken up the girl, they climbed downstairs to the kitchen, preparing some well deserved breakfast. It consisted of farm eggs—courtesy of the chicken coop—and Joel did the luxury of decently scrambling them, much to Ellie's delight.

It's strange, to notice that the rough waters between them have settled only for this day. Joel, not once, did he ever bring _it_ up. Despite Tommy's mother-like nags and his conscience constantly rebuking him for not telling her, it was all bottled up inside him.

He hated himself for it.

Young Ellie, on the other hand, hated herself for various things. She hated how she trusted him so easily, how her relationship with Joel was too strong that it was almost _impossible_ for her to fully resent him. Perhaps she loved and hated him at the same time, if such a thing was even possible. The lie would persistently scratch at her heel, and no matter how many times she would kick the itch away, it would come back, would always come back.

She wished that she had never told him to swear to her.  
Frankly, she wished that she had never been bitten in the first place.

But fate hits you when you least expect it, doesn't it?  
For the religious, it does seem that God works in mysterious ways.

Many times, she would try to bring the topic up, but her tongue would tie and she would find herself running off to Riley and Leon's. She hated herself for such cowardice. Even if she badly wanted to confront him, there's just that feeling of fear that rumbled whenever it came to the real thing.

But today, they both set aside the tension, the lies, and the gutlessness. They were both thankful for ending up Jackson. Ellie was overjoyed with reuniting with Riley. Joel was happy that the redhead smiled more often (though he very well knew what she was really feeling inside). And damn it, a petty little lie was _not_ going to ruin their day of swimming.

On to the scrambled eggs.

"Did you cook for her often?" she said during the early hours with a mouthful of yellow fluff.

"Not really, Sarah preferred delivery."

_"Deliwerwy?"_ she repeated poorly, ignoring the proper table manners as some of the chewed-up eggs ejected dashingly out of her mouth.

"Food delivery," Joel muttered, ignoring the egg that had conveniently landed next to his plate, "before the outbreak, people would uh, rather stay inside than drive out. They'd call the restaurants, order what they wanted, and give 'em their address for delivery. Half an hour later, you'd expect someone ringin' at your doorbell, and you'd get the food and pay. Popular among the teens n'parties."

Ellie swallowed down her food, fascinated at such alien norms.  
"Man, that sounds really silly," She cut her eggs in twain and chewed more fashionably. "Wouldn't it be cool, though?"

"What d'you mean?"  
"I mean, to order food like this and get it delivered. Seems really new and _eggs_citing, don't you think?"

It took five seconds for Joel to register her remark as a joke, to which he deadpanned her, and they both ate their eggs in the midst of soft chuckles and puns.

Twenty minutes after eating and cleaning up, the duo exited the house. The mixture of spring and summer air was surprisingly humid, and the sun was taking its merry time rising up from the landscape. Ellie had tailed him, and they both roamed the roads of Jackson, watching some neighbors as they hung their shirts on clotheslines or opened their windows to greet the Wyoming air.

It was overwhelming for the both of them, and as you can imagine, they smiled in awe at the unfamiliar sight.

When they had arrived at Jackson's west gate—the one near the pond—a middle-aged guard stood with his back facing the metal walls that were fifteen feet in height. He yawned, clearly dealing with the extended hours of his graveyard shift.

"Morning, Joel." the man said, his voice sunken and scratchy like sandpaper. He gripped the rifle in his hands more firmly. "Nice getup. What, there a beach nearby?"

Joel gestured toward the gate. "Figured I should teach 'er some swimmin' lessons down by the pond, it ain't too far from here. We'll be back before lunchtime."

"Well, confound it, thought I could've used some relaxation by the seashore." The guard joked, his warm eyes trailing to the girl, "First time, kid?"

Ellie shrugged, tugging the hems of her board shorts. "Sort of,"

The guard opened the gate with a creak, causing short vibrations to erupt from the ground that tickled the base of their shoes.

"Enjoy the water. Reckon you can make my job easier by not dying out there?"

Joel gave out a breath of chuckling air. "We'll try our best."

* * *

**8:44 AM**

A knock welcomed itself on the door of Leon and Riley's humble abode.

The boy—whom had just started to drool relentlessly down his bottom lip—stirred awake in the couch, befuddled by the sudden _rap rap rap_ of the door. He grunted, his back lying quite comfortably on the sofa. A gun was resting on the table beside him, but remembering that this was Jackson and not a house in the middle of the woods, he ignored the weapon that was disappointingly anticipating to be held.

"Yeah?" he half-yelled and half-yawned, toward the door.

A muffled voice erupted from the outside, snaking its way into the hollow house.

"It's Tommy."  
Leon propped himself up on his elbows. "Oh,"

"Oh," meaning that he wasn't prepared at all.

He swung his legs over the couch and stood up—stretching in the process. "Give me a sec,"

From the living room, he walked a good six feet over to where the door was located, fixing his sleep-deprived hair in the process. The boy opened the door, in which a standing Tommy was contained outside. The sunlight lingered over them, watching, gazing.

"Morning, uh, sir."

He had those I've-worked-all-night-and-haven't-got-any-sleep circles under his eyes. His usually pale face had grown whiter and grim, and his shirt was embedded by stains of grease—most probably due to working at the dam.

Despite all this, he managed to light up a faint smile.

The man chuckled, a hand rubbing his whiskery chin. "Nah, y'don't need to call me that, son. I'd very much like 'Tommy' as it is."

There was a pause, sinking like rock in the murky waters of the house. So, Tommy, being the humbled one he is, decided to throw some small talk.

"How's the house treatin' you?"  
"Oh," Leon sputtered, his signature eyes trailing to the ground as he scratched his neck. "It's really...really great, we appreciate all this. Thank you."

"No sweat. Any friend of our people's a friend of mine."

...

Another awkward pause. Leon's toes had begun digging themselves in his shoes. It was hard for him to socialize with leaders of a settlement.

"Look, son," Tommy mumbled, "sorry for interrupting you'n such early hours, but, I thought you'd like to know that I'd assigned you and Riley to a scoutin' group already. Since you uh, asked yesterday."

Leon's eyes widened. "Already? Wow. Thanks, I...I didn't expect it to be that quick."

In fact, he hadn't expected to be put in the scouting crew at all.  
When you try and ambush a fourteen-year-old girl in the middle of the woods for the sake of surviving, you don't get much perks. It wasn't his fault, surely, he barely even knew how Ellie looked like, how on earth was he supposed to know that it was the girl Riley had been looking for?

Now that he thought about it, how on earth was he supposed to know that he and Riley would acquire ownership to a goddamn house?

It was all incredulous to him, really, and being assigned to Jackson's scouting crew were just added privileges to the cream of the crop.

"Me neither, but they'd apparently lacked two more recruits to make it an even assembly. Y'know, pairs and all that." Tommy replied, placing his weathered hands in the inside pockets of his tattered pants. "Thought I'd let you know. They'll be expectin' your appearance in a few hours. I'd best prepare, f'I were you."

"Right." Leon said, his arm unnecessarily leaning against the door frame. "I'll get ready for it. Thank you, sir—_Tommy. _It. . . it means a lot to me. To us."

The amount of embarrassment the boy had placed onto himself during that moment was hilariously immense, and the man had coyly waved him off.

"No problem, let me know if you change your mind about the recruitin' (Leon internally retorted at that remark). Take care, son. Enjoy the new house."

He went off into the road before the boy could snap out of his gawking trance. Leon shook his head at the gradually shrinking size of Tommy, and closed the door.

Upon turning, he found Riley walking quite sluggishly out of the hallway that led to their two bedrooms, her bare feet were slapping against the semi-polished, semi-dusty wooden flooring. She wore a white undershirt and shorts ending right below her knees, sleep was engraved on her coffee-stained eyes.

Leon smirked.

"Morning," she yawned, sounding chipper than usual, "who was that?"

"Tommy," he replied, "said that we got in the scouting crew."  
"Wow. I can't wait." Riley monotonously said, walking over to the counter where an opened can of peaches were awaiting her.

"Mm-hm, I can tell."

She grabbed a fork from the drawer, rinsing it first before plunging it into the can to stab an unsuspecting sugary peach.

While watching her consume the food, Leon was in the process of contemplating. It had been some days since the reunion, but still, he couldn't get his mind off of the fact that they were living in a _house_. It was a decent house too, for God's sake. How and why and when and where did this all exactly happen?

"He's nicer than I thought." His tone didn't mean judgement, it was just a nice, simple observation that the boy thought was obvious.

"Who?" Riley's words were muffled as she stuffed the impaled fruit into her food hole. "Tommy?"

Leon nodded, making the girl chuckle as she drove the fork mercilessly into another poor peach.  
"I thought you already knew that, considering that he made us _live_ here."

Leon eventually joined her, grabbing a fork of his own and accompanying the girl as they ravaged over the innocent canned fruits. "So you're not phased by all this? It's been like, a week, and damn, it's trippy and shit." He spread his arms wide; fork in one hand, can in the other. "Look, we got food, beds, a roof over our heads... it's too good to be true, and here you are acting like you've lived in this damn place all your life."

Riley chuckled, her arm leaning on the counter. "Of course I am. This week was fucking _overwhelming_." she bit off the flesh of her pierced peach. "I got scarred by a bear, did you forget that?"

"Hah, 'course not, would've died, but I heard that your girlfriend went in and saved our asses."

Ooh, that hit her.

Riley paused momentarily, her brown eyes flickered for a moment before she recomposed herself and scoffed casually. "What?"

Leon smirked.  
Damn that diabolical little smirk.

"Oh, so you _aren't_ together?"

She found her cheeks blushing.

"No, I—" Hesitation. ". . .I just, never really thought about it that way."

"So you don't consider her as your girlfriend, but you still kissed each other like damn lovers in the middle of the woods at night when I was gone?"

Riley's face did a strange multi-hue transformation, it went from redness to whiteness, maybe an additional dab of red, and then back to her brownish complexion. She dramatically dropped the fork into the can, her spine standing upright and rigid.

_Oh, fuck._

Painstakingly, her widened eyes traced those of the boy's blue ones.

He was smirking. Again.  
That little devil.

"You. . ?" Riley whispered, she felt a strand of vice in her throat, and she gulped it down forcefully. "You. . . you saw. .?"

Leon could only laugh.  
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was when Riley Abel's face had drowned itself in a color that resembled sheer bashfulness. The ignominy.

"Oh my god," She felt the pure amount of embarrassment rumble in her peach-filled stomach. Digesting. Churning. Crumbling.

He saw them.

The thought went through her again.

He _saw_ them, goddamn it.

"You. . . you fucking _pervert!_"

His laughs transformed to boisterous bellows as Riley pushed him away from the counter, steam and blush erupting from her ears and cheeks.  
"How," she demanded, "how _fucking_ long did you look?"

The boy managed to speak in his sea of uncontrollable laughing hiccups. "That's classified."

She pushed him again.

"How long?" she growled.

"Just, like, half a minute." he replied, and Riley cringed so very visually. "When I came back and. . . _yeah _. . . I kind of went off and basically, a cub fucking assassinated me."

The poor girl. How she wished she could've just crawled into a hole and lay there for all eternity. Leon was now bending forward, his hands on his shaking and laughing knees. Mocking her. Ridiculing her.

The nerve of him!

"You deserve getting mauled by that cub." she spat, and the boy didn't seem to digest the insult, he was well busy with the art of guffawing.

So, as you might imagine, Riley was in a fit of humiliation. And she spitefully shrugged off Leon's jocular comments and had stolen the can of peaches from his grasp, telling him that he didn't deserve the goodness of processed canned goods, nor the house, for that matter.

But she was forced to stick and live with him. To live with his perfected art of douchebaggery and his strange electric eyes. Albeit the present hatred she had for him, Riley Abel knew in her heart and in her currently angry mind that she loved the boy like he was her own brother.

And so, because he was her _beloved_ surrogate sibling, she shook the now empty can of peaches at him, forbidding him to ever bring up the topic of that fateful night to anyone. Ever.

"Don't worry, I won't." he winked. "Just next time, do it more. . . discretely."

That was it.  
With corroding eyes, she threw the can at him with great fervor.

"Fucking swine!"

A peaceful day for the people of Jackson.

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
9:02 AM**

Small lakes had never been intimidating.

Well, I guess that was bullshit, because this one seemed pretty threatening.

It was hard to try and pinpoint the location of the large pond, Joel had taken his rollicking time trying to find the place, and as you might know, I grew kind of restless. I didn't know if I was being personally punished by the forest, but my bare legs had been violated as we walked to the pond, reminding me that choosing to wear shorts while venturing in the woods was a very terrible idea.

When we eventually found the site, it looked surprisingly serene, like it had originated from something that came out of a fantasy book. The water looked relatively clean, and the borders of the large pond were shallow. Upon arriving, Joel placed his hands firmly on his square waist, breathing in the scent of mother nature.

"Ain't it a beaut, Ellie?"  
With my horrid legs, I agreed. "It's a stunner, all right."

He exhaled comfortably, unbuttoning his flannel to reveal a black-sleeved undershirt. His shorts were several inches below the knee. I stood next to him, with my legs highly contrasted compared to his, considering that mine were brown and dirty.

How the hell did his legs not get muddy, anyway?

It didn't take long for him to browse down and gaze at the bottom part of my body, to which his eyes widened in surprise.

"Are your legs. . . okay?" he asked, though there was more of an amused expression in his tone than a concerned one.

I frowned.

"You just noticed?"  
"You never said anythin', so I thought you were good."

"Well, if you _must_ know," I muttered, brushing off a leaf that'd stuck to my calf with mud, "I got assaulted by tree midgets."

"Ah, the worst kind." he said, dipping his feet into the water. "On the bright side, 'least this swimmin' will do your legs some good."

It kind of amazed me (and also petrified me) on how quickly he sank to the pond. Like, he was standing at the border with the water at the height of his ankles. Then, upon taking another step or two, the height immediately engulfed him until it stopped near the upper part of his chest. Joel raised his arms out of the water, muttering a soft profanity before turning to me. I felt something, that damn nervousness in my stomach when he turned back to face me, like he was waiting for me to jump in and join him.

Hah! As if I could do that.

There was a comical look on his face. "Well?"  
Trepidation.  
"Uh, there's too much. . ." I mumbled. ". . .water."

He laughed, a one-syllable laugh that mocked me right in front of my face."Yeah, ponds have a lot of water in 'em."

"I know, I just—. . . God, Joel, you made me sound like an idiot."

"Will you jump in or not?"

Oh dear, the pressurization. He was _pressuring_ me.  
I clenched my fists. "I _will. _Just— just give me a second."

Huffing, I stared down at the body of water, and mentally calculated the deepness of the water to Joel's height—he's probably six feet or something. So, if the water reached up to his chest, that would be about five feet. I could hear a distant voice, I shrugged it off and continued on. Yeah, okay. Five feet. And thus, five feet versus a 5'3 height such as mine. . . that would determine that the water would end just at my—

"Ellie." Joel butted in, his voice clearer. "Any time, now."

Great, there goes my calculation. Looks like I had no other option.  
"If I drown," I sighed. "I am going to haunt you. Forever."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" he smirked. "C'mon, kiddo, water's fine."

And with dirty legs and feet that were kissing the gravel below me, I sunk into the pond, the water surprisingly cool as it contrasted against the approaching summer heat.

In all honesty, it was pretty soothing.

"Now, uh. . ." He spread his arms toward me. "Come slowly to me, you'll notice a drop, but once I got you, just hold on to me, okay?"

"Okay." I gulped, the water tickling my toes.

With his arms outstretched, I took a brave step forward, the water was still at ankle height.  
_  
Okay, totally cool. I got this.  
_  
But when taking the second step, it came to my attention that I was thoroughly and utterly not cool.

The drop was immensely abrupt, and I found my whole body sinking down along with my unfortunate foot as the water rose from my ankles and up to my damn chin. My mouth was clumsily open, and it had decided to swallow a good portion from the small lake. Joel caught me just in time, though it was too late for my poor mouth.

In his grasp, I sputtered and spat and swore, flailing my arms and legs childishly in panic. My lungs were watered like plants. Plants.

"Ellie, Ellie—!" he grunted, only to be kept quiet when I accidentally slammed his cheek during my frenzy.  
_  
Whoops._

I clenched my water-filled eyes, opening them up again to find Joel gritting his teeth, his eyes in a haze after I had hit him rather hard.

"Shit, Joel?" I squeaked, clinging to his arms. My voice drowned and watery. "Crap, sorry, sorry! My bad."

"It's fine," he groaned, "just. . . stay calm. Try not to squirm—or hit me—when I hold you, okay?"

"Yeah," I coughed, "okay."

"You alright?"

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Joel didn't seem convinced.

"Did you drink the water?"

...

". . .Unintentionally."

He groaned, lightly chastising me to not do it again, telling me that there could be bacterial organisms found in the water and that I might digest the said bacteria and suffer and die unexpectedly from a foreign disease. If I were younger, probably eight or nine, I would've been traumatized by the way he chided it. I mean, you don't tell little girls about the grim consequences of swallowing freshwater.

You're also not supposed to be mortally wounded and to leave them to fend for themselves during the winter, only to be faced by cannibalistic men who want to be their friends.

But that's just me and my highly specific hypothetical.

In the meantime, he introduced me to the pond's anatomy, like which types of bodies of water there were, the kinds of creatures that were found in them, and the extensive examples of swimming techniques. It was all while holding me afloat and not actually doing anything else.

This was _not_ how I pictured swimming.

As he continued to drone on while holding me, my feet fluttering and hovering over the waterbed, I went ahead and interrupted his fascinating lecture.

"Jesus, Joel, I got it. I'm _good._" I snapped. "Are you gonna keep holding me like this?"

He scoffed. "Unless you know how to doggy paddle, then yeah, I am."

I quirked a brow.

"Doggy-what?"

I honestly found it sad at how clueless I was.  
Joel took no time in groaning, and he readjusted his hold on me before slightly moving across the freshwater.

"This'll take longer than I thought."

* * *

**o-O-o**

Another typical winter night in the Boston military school, where two teenage girls had gone and enjoyed the remnants of their last weekday, anticipating for Saturday's arrival. In a room, where they had both sat across from each other on a bed, they were sharing an alcoholic beverage, drinking until their hearts were content.

They both laughed incoherently in the dorm, reading from a punbook that Riley had scavenged out of the mall. They were pretty mild, but their intoxication had made the jokes a _bazillion_ times more enjoyable. How they got drunk, she didn't know, but Riley Abel knew that she didn't mean to lend her the bottle of beer.

Heck, she intended it for Winston.

Who was she kidding? It _was_ intended for Winston, but when Ellie'd found out that she was smuggling alcohol, she demanded to take a sip. And, as you can see, one thing went after the other, and now they were both tipsy.

Who would've thought that it would be a great idea to drink alcohol on a Friday night?

(No, that's not sarcasm).

"My friend's bakery burned down last night," Ellie drawled, the way she spoke was a clear indication that she was absolutely and positively _drunk_. But Riley was a bit more sober, and she listened to her friend's pun with a nutty grin on her face.

"What happened?" she hummed.  
"Well, now. . ." the redhead prolonged the last word. "Now. . . his business is _toast_."

Roaring laughter filled the room during the winter night, and the alcohol had helped dumb the cold. The two girls were snickering drunkenly, their bodies wrapped with Riley's blanket as they sat adjacent to each other on the bed.

"Give me that," Riley chuckled, and she swiped off the punbook from Ellie's hands. Her clumsy brown eyes danced along the pages as she flipped, and they landed on a line that seemed to have fancied her.

She turned to the girl.  
"Hey, Ellie?"

"Yeaaaah?"

The poor girl, she was clearly floored. She basically drank the whole bottle, while Riley had only a quarter of it.

"Ever tried eating a clock?"

...

"Don't. It's time consuming."

"That's fucking horrible." But she laughed either way, she tugged the blanket that they were sharing, and covered her mouth with the fabric. Riley caught her in the act, and there was just something about Ellie's rosy (yet drunk) complexion that made her smile more warmly than intended.

"_You're_ horrible," Riley replied back, but her eyes were glued to her green ones. The bottle laid solemnly on the floor, lying horizontally, empty as water in a desert. Riley shrugged, knowing that the proposition with Winston was long gone.

She wasn't upset, though. She quite fairly enjoyed witnessing an inebriated Ellie. It was adorable at the least.

After minutes and minutes of strenuous puns, they decided that it was enough. With drunken hands, Ellie tucked the book in her backpack, a strand of her hair had gotten out and wedged itself between the metallic teeth of her pack when she tried to zip it back up. She muttered an oath, and forcefully yanked the hair back.

"I swear," she groaned, "one of these days, I'll shave my fucking hair off. Keeps getting in the damn way."

Riley laughed slightly, shaking her head. Without thinking, she scooted herself closer to the girl, bringing up her hand and tucking the wayward strand back behind the girl's ear. She could feel Ellie's tension beneath the blankets upon receiving contact.

"Nah," She smiled, "you look pretty with it. Keep it."

You may be wondering what the _hell_ had been going on Riley's confounded head at that time. But given the circumstances of their intoxicating predicament, she was drunk. They were both drunk. It was hard to keep control of yourself when you had boozed over a healthy dosage of liquor.

Though, she was sober enough to realize what she had said, and Riley tried to take it back, only to have her mouth shut when Ellie stared back at her. Her green eyes pierced through her like knives. Vivid and sharp. It made her hand freeze, and comically, it was cupping the girl's cheek and ear.

"You think so?" she whispered, and the tone of her voice made Riley's neck prickle. She uncouthly retracted her hand back, burying it beneath the heat of the blanket. Riley's breath hitched, her sober side was begging for her to not screw up any further.

Oh, who was she kidding? This was Ellie, for God's sake. Ultimately, she allowed her tipsiness to prevail.

"Yeah," and she smiled again, that warm but shy smile. "Actually, shave it or not, it won't matter."

Internally, Riley's sober side wanted to kick herself._  
_

There was a strange but peaceful stillness between them afterwards, it joined them as they were buried among the blankets, listening in tentatively for the next words to spill out of either one of their mouths. Ellie bit her lip, coyness and drunkenness embedded in her face. "Know what, Riley?"

She gulped down her timidity. "What?"

"Even if you're a fucking asshole (Riley interrupted her with a laugh). . . you're like, the only person, who's ever made me feel like I was, I was wanted." She let out a weak hiccup, and Riley's stomach was churned tenfold. "Everyone else just... didn't really fucking care about me."

Riley's chest somewhat dampened, surprised at hearing such confrontation. She paused, not sure whether or not the beer had gotten the best of them.

"But you. . ." Ellie continued, much to her unawareness, ". . .you somehow pop into my life, and. . . you're the only fucking person who's capable of making me feel like. . . _me_."

She didn't notice it, but as the younger girl continued to chuckle softly at herself, Riley's heart was hammering furiously in her chest.  
_  
Thump-thump, thump-thump._

The alcohol started to edge off of young Abel, and before she could reply back, Ellie's hands were stretched out, grasping on to the wrists of the other girl. Riley could only gawk back at her as the redhead started to pull her close, her grip was tightening.

She could smell the scent of liquor in the air.  
Sweet, bitter, metallic liquor.

"How?" Ellie whispered again, nearing her, closing in on her, making her heart hammer a thousand times more fervently than before.

...

"How do you make me feel so. . . special?"

Riley's vision consisted of a sea of freckles, dark reddish hair, a scarred brow, and green eyes that seemed to twinkle in every natural way possible. She trailed her pupils down to the girl's lips, then back up to her. Her pulse, she could feel it in her throat, beating its sides, fighting for a way out.

What was she going to do?

"Ellie. . ?" she squeaked back, realizing that the grip Ellie had on her had softened.

But the girl had her eyes closed, and her head started to hang low.

...

"Ellie?"  
She shook her lightly.  
"Ellie, hey."

No response.

...

Riley scoffed to herself. Typical.

She passed out.

The alcohol overtook her. Of course. Right at the moment too, how timely.

She was still perturbed, not knowing if what she was feeling for the girl were real or just fantasies that the beer had created for her. Riley gazed at her, and she examined her features, from her flaws to her everything. Her closed eyes, her light freckles, her rosy cheeks from the beer, and her _beauty._

Riley's brown eyes went back down to Ellie's lips.

She couldn't help the fact that she was catastrophically beautiful.

And in all honesty, she wanted nothing more but to kiss her right there. This was her opportunity. Ellie was unconscious, this was her open window to get what she wanted.

...

_No.  
_Riley shook her head.

No. She knew it was wrong. She couldn't take advantage of her, Ellie was more than that.

So much more than that.

Before she could withdraw, the girl's weight gave way, and she doubled over and fell towards Riley's body, the both of them collapsing into the bed with the redhead being at the top. The blankets suffocated them in silence._  
_

"Ellie—!"

Riley laughed, patting the girl's back as she started to snore.

"You big baby."

Trying to wake her up yielded nothing, and after several instances wherein she tried to stir her, there seemed to be only one option left.

She had to carry her back to her room.

Still crushed under her weight, Riley wrapped an arm around the girl's neck, the other beneath her legs. Ellie eased at the touch, and with all the soberness she could muster, Riley stood up from the bed, grunting and carrying Ellie along with her, swaying a bit before gaining balance.

"Jesus," she chuckled, readjusting her hold on the girl, "you're heavier than I thought."

Ellie could just snore in response. Her head was resting on the side of Riley's neck, and she could feel her drunken lips touching her frigid skin.

Oh, how she struggled too much with resisting the urges.

With clumsy silence, she exited out of the room, into the corridor, and prodded her way to the younger girl's dorm, opening the slightly ajar door with her foot. It creaked, and Riley looked left to right in the hallway before entering, making sure that no one had decided to spy on them.

Now, you may be asking, _why on Earth would someone spy on them?_

Well, for one reason, she certainly didn't want more of those damn rumors to speculate, especially now that half of the school knew about their water guns.

Yes, that's right. Someone, some anonymous _schlemiel_ had gone ahead and snitched on them, telling the Corporal that Ellie and Riley had contraband toys that they hid under a removable floorboard. How that cursed snitch knew, they had no idea.

And Riley surely didn't want that kid blabbering again, so she looked around at her surroundings more cautiously. When the coast was presumably clear, Riley entered the room, accidentally bumping Ellie's head on the wooden doorway. She groaned coarsely, her voice bouncing off of the corridor walls.

"Shit," Riley hissed, attempting to cradle her head. "Sorry, sorry."

When she successfully brought her inside the dorm, she tiptoed her way across Ellie's bed, stooping her arms so that Ellie would slowly roll off of her grasp and land safely. The weight had thankfully shifted from her to the mattress, and the redhead grunted in her sleep, muttering some gibberish that Riley could not decipher. She looked at her passed out friend, her limbs sprawled out as she laid on her bed.

Riley found herself looking longer than intended, and stopped to focus when the open window in Ellie's room had brought in an unfriendly winter breeze, flowing through Abel's jacket and to the girl's pale skin, making her shiver and chatter. Out of the trance, Riley closed the window in silence, and spotted a blanket at the top of Ellie's bunk bed. Grabbing it, she draped the sheet over the girl's quivering body, ultimately ceasing her freezing movement. Her furrowed brows eased to rest, allowing the redhead to snooze in peace.

And again, Riley was staring.

Call her a distinguished creep, but she wouldn't care. She probably stood there for a few more minutes, watching as Ellie stirred and grumbled and changed sides every now and then. Because of her movement, her hair had gotten quite messy, and more unwanted strands had scrambled across her face. Riley sighed, shaking her head as she smiled and approached the girl again.

With a feeble hand, she tucked the strands behind her ear, her touch lingering for a few more milliseconds before retracting it back.

...

Her eyes went back down to Ellie's face, and Riley exhaled desperately.

She was right. Head shaved or not, she was stunning. Even if she was an under-aged drunkard, a snoring mess, and smelled of metallic alcohol. The moonlight kissed her sleeping frame and bade her a goodnight. Riley could only wish that she had been the one to do the honors to wish her a sweet dream.

But she did it anyway, only without a delicate parting kiss.

"Goodnight, Ellie."  
Her snores symbolized as a farewell response.

(It was dumb luck for Riley Abel the following day, because apparently, Ellie would not be able to recall the confessions sealed inside her from last night).

Later, in bed, during that night; Riley looked up at her dorm's ceiling, a dead light bulb smiling down at her. She clenched her eyes as another cold wind breezed through, and envisioned her friend a few rooms across from her, her voice whispering into her ears and warming her cold face.

...

_How do you make me feel so special?_

She smiled and turned to face the wall, her alcoholic breath slowed as she dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

She slept and awoke with the same grin sticking foolishly to her face, and in her hungover state, Riley had great trouble attempting to wipe it off. She couldn't seem to forget Ellie's lines that would forever imprint themselves in her mind. Like a stubborn cold.

But she didn't complain.  
Not one bit.

Frankly, she smiled even more.

**o-O-o**

* * *

**-JOEL-  
12:56 PM**

She was hovering around the blueness, her blurry feet swiveled in small circles.

"Look, I'm doing it!"

Joel smiled proudly at her, and when he attempted to approach, she refused and demanded that he stayed and watched. The man did as told, watching as the girl did the business of paddling around him, water droplets flying here and there and landing on his wet hair. A calm state of serenity established itself between themselves, nestling among the water and swimming along with them.

And Joel, with his arms slowed by the water, caught her in his hold. "C'mon, kiddo, that's good enough."

"Daddy!" she screamed, laughing. "D'you see that? I was doing it!"

He grinned back, ruffling her slick blonde hair. "Sure did, honey. And you did great, too. Faster than your old man when he was just startin' to learn how to swim."

The eight-year-old giggled, swimming away from her father's grasp and gifting him a wave pool of water. "Goes to show that I'm better than you in everythin', even in swimmin', huh?"

Joel could not resist but to splash her back, causing her to shriek in delight.  
"Dad!" she yelled again, shooting him a wet glare. He looked away, whistling an innocent tune.

Sarah huffed, and upon calling her father's unaware attention, she sent a miniature tsunami across to reach him.

"Hey!"

Suddenly, everything around him transformed.

He coughed out the water that had accidentally entered his mouth, an annoyed grin on his face as he gazed back at the redhead, who smirked at him in response.

"Sorry, you were zoning out a little while I was swimming. Thought you wanted to see how good I was doing." She exaggeratedly covered her mouth in alarm, paddling with one hand. A fake, innocent gasp escaped her lips. "Oh shit, you didn't _drink_ the water, did you?"

Joel sent her a pair of narrowed eyes, and Ellie began to clear her throat.

"Now, Joel, you ain't s'posed to drink it." Her impression on a Texan accent was hauntingly spot-on, even her attempt to imitate the man's deepness wasn't too shabby. "See, 'cause the pond water's got some micro-berial in 'em, and you might die from a disease."

"Funny," and he sent a destructive wave to her face, "and it's micro-_bacterial_, kiddo."

Ellie spat out the water, her ponytail had gotten out and she placed the tie around her wrist. Joel had seldom seen her with her hair down, and she unmistakably looked just as pretty—only with an additional dash of elegance. She cursed him, and they both laughed. Harder and lighter than they had ever laughed together.

At long last, the girl had successfully learned how to hover without drowning, and regardless of her rather poor method of doggy-paddling, it was still considered as a feat. No more would she have to resort to second routes, no more would she freeze at the sight of water, and she was definitely happy that she didn't need a hackneyed _pallet_ each time they would encounter a body of water.

Joel had guided her through the whole thing in under four hours, making her learn surprisingly faster than he had originally thought. They were somewhat at the center of the lake, though slightly to the left. Joel was always at a distance, watching her as she paddled around.

Interestingly, he had forgotten about bringing _the_ topic up to her. Yes, it was the one regarding she and her. . . lady friend. Joel's uncharacteristic awkwardness at that time was peculiar, but Ellie didn't seem to notice why he had been.

When they started to notice the time that had elapsed and the water that had wrinkled their hands and face, Ellie paddled over to the lake's shore, wringing her hair out to dry. The smile in her face started to fade, realizing that things were once again returning to how it originally was, with the tension and the lies and the gutlessness.

Of course, they both hated it.

And just before they would have gone off into the woods to arrive back in Jackson, Ellie stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey, Joel?"  
He turned around, his hair moist against the summer-ish air.

...

"Thanks," she continued, "for this. I. . . I really appreciate that you went ahead and did this for me."

Maybe it was just the simplicity in how she said it, that perhaps she wasn't trying to refer to the swimming alone. But to everything. He could feel what she meant, and he smirked, those deep hazel eyes on her green ones. As the case may be, some things didn't need saying, and Joel had come to terms with how _stupid_ his plan was starting to sound.

_Teach her to swim and then confront her about the witnessed kiss? _What kind of person was he?

To answer that question, Joel was a person with very few unadulterated values. But fortunately for him, he was wholesome enough to be loved by a fourteen-year-old girl.

And her mysterious love life was certainly none of his business.

"A promise is a promise." he said with his lips tugged to the sides. He brought out his wrinkled hand for Ellie to take. Like a child. "C'mon kiddo, let's go home. I'll keep an eye on 'em tree midgets for you."

She smiled and grabbed on, and Ellie did not let go of his hold until they had returned back to Jackson.

* * *

**-RILEY-  
1:05 PM**

"So, you're those new guys with the bears and shit, huh?" the boy asked, his ginger hair vivid against the greenery.

We were returning from our introductory sessions. The recruiting thing that Leon had signed up for me and him, thinking that socializing with the peers of Jackson would be good for my mental state.

Honestly, after the shit from this morning, my mental and psychical state wanted to kill him.

It went surprisingly well, and we took some hours off of the clock by circling Jackson's campus, the scout leader—Yusuf—was a middle-aged man with a heavy accent, his heart weighing the same as his voice. He showed us the ropes, and divided the crew into quadrants, we ended up with two kids that were probably our age. A girl and a boy. We haven't talked the whole introduction, only to have made it happen upon returning to the settlement.

Walking home, the orange-haired boy attempted to bring up a conversation, and things kind of hit off. We all had that similar thin frame, but the boy had shoulders that were broader than my asshole of a companion. I wasn't bothered, it was nice to meet some faces around here.

And Leon, as if proud of our reputation, nodded, his chin slightly higher than usual. "Mm-hm, how'd you know?"

"Word travels quickly around here, but yeah. Tough shit, you two are made of. Think I caught your name earlier, Riley, right?"

"Uh, that's me," I said, almost sheepishly, "His name's Leon."  
His pale green eyes were what I noticed first, his gleam duller than Ellie's. "Oh, sorry. Name's Benton, I'm uh, originally from North Carolina. This here's—"

A chain of insanely loud woofs had cut him off, and a canine zoomed past the four of us, only to be followed by a boy whom I assumed was around my age, his blond hair shinier than most I've seen with that similar color. He was yelling something in a language that I could not understand.

"Christ," Benton's eyes were narrowed. "That's Ivanik and his dog, barks like a fucking maniac, too. He knows English, but barely speaks it."

"Something wrong with him?" Leon queried, I sent him a look.

The boy shook his head. "Nah, kid's just German, and from what I heard, he's raised by his grandmother who came from Strausberg or something. They live at the end of the street, near the mess hall. Feel sorry for any of the poor neighbors who've gotta deal with those fucking barks."

I scrunched my brows, trying to remember what part of Germany Strausberg was in. It'd been so long since we've studied other countries' geographies in school, particularly Europe. And you know, it's kind of trippy when you try and imagine how other places in the world are dealing with the infection.

"Like he said," the girl continued for him. "I'm Piper. We're like, second cousins or something by those lines. It's pretty confusing, so we just stick to relatives."

"Yep, been in Jackson for a good four years or so. We arrived when we were thirteen, both at the same age—"

The dog started to bark relentlessly. Benton continued nonetheless.

"—we're eighteen, now—"

More animal yaps, and it was unbelievable to know that one _single_ dog was capable of making so much goddamn noise.

"—believe it or not, we—"

More barking, woofing, and yapping. The intervals seemed to make Benton's head simmer. Could the Infected hear it?

"—everyone thinks that you guys lost an arm or something from that bear—"

When the barks had interrupted him yet again, Benton clenched his eyes, opening them up again to reveal a fiery green. Leon visibly gulped.

"For fuck's sake— _Ivanik!_"

A few meters away, the boy's German blond hair turned to face him, they were the color of ripened lemons.  
_"Ja?" _He was trying to calm his overzealous animal companion.

"That dog of yours," He pointed at the breed like it was devil-spawn, "will be the fucking death of us. I swear to God, he barks one more time, I'll _slit_ his fucking throat!"

Ivanik's face contorted in anger and confusion, Piper and I raised our brows in alarm.

_"Was hast du gesagt?"  
_  
And then it hit me.  
He rarely spoke English, 'cause instead, he spoke in German.

...

Holy shit, was I slow.

He had pronounced the words fluidly, playing it around his tongue in such an exotic tone. The only other language I've ever heard was probably Spanish. But German sounded so... different.

"It's happening again." Piper whispered for only us to hear. "He and Benton had some history together, mostly related to his dog."

I looked back at him, his light orange hair ruffled as he sent Ivanik another insult. The boy looked incensed.

_"Schwanz lutschen, sie amerikanischen Affe!" _he admonished, his yellow brows furrowed. And frankly, neither I nor anyone in the scouting group had understood him. It was sad, really, the disappointment I had when it came to my inability to translate dialects.

The dog howled again.  
And man, did Benton lose it.

He pushed past Leon and I, marching over to Ivanik and his rusty red Lab. Naturally, the blond boy responded in his mother tongue. _"Erhalten Sie weg von ihm, du Affe!" _he shouted, his body covering the dog, who was still barking in hysteria.

Benton's fists were clenched. "_English_, Jesus Christ, speak it!"

"Touch my dog, and you will regret it!" All right, his pronunciation wasn't the best, but at least it was understandable. "You ape, you_ Arschloch! _What have I done to you?"

And based on my predictions, I assumed _Arschloch_ was 'asshole' in German.  
Leon's expression was horrific, and for comfort, he looked over at Piper.

"Is he really gonna. . ?" he whispered among the yells and woofs.

The brunette chuckled, shaking her head as we continued to trek back towards Jackson, leaving the two bickering boys behind. "You kidding? This happens regularly. Benton can't even hurt a fly, he's just like that dog, all bark and no bite. It's a wonder how Clickers haven't killed them yet, with the yells and all."

Amid Ivanik's foreign insults and Benton's translated ones, the dog was barking again, and the German boy's nerves broke. He yelled over his head, his voice accentuating and emphasizing the cries of his canine friend.

You can expect Benton's reaction.

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
3:23 PM**

What can I say?  
I didn't expect anything.

Knocking on the door, I suspected for Leon to open it, like he always had for the past week, and each time I saw that brown hair of his poking out, he would jokingly scowl.

"Oh," he would say. "It's you again."  
Naturally, I smiled back at him with faked malice. As you can see, our friendship had developed extremely well these days.

But instead, I got the real deal, and Riley Abel opened the door with the same look of unexpectedness. She blinked at me momentarily, her brown eyes looking like they were adjusting. After some brief seconds, she smiled, and pulled the door wide open.

Instinctively, I dove into her arms. Like a swimmer preparing to dive.

"El—" she laughed, and we both tumbled inside. She eventually embraced me in response, her hands trailing across the back of my flannel. "Well, I guess that's as close to a 'hi' as it gets."

She smelled like dew from grass, her breaths heavy as she brought me inside. We collapsed on the sofa together, nearing the living room, my body on top of hers. She yelled in surprise, before I viciously silenced her with a kiss. Yes, I know, I was being flirtatious, I had my moments, I was deprived from her touch for some time.

"You're awfully grabby today," she said after breaking apart, her hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Good ol' classic Riley moves.

"Don't act like you don't love it," Still on top of her, I looked around in caution. "Is Leon here?"

Riley offhandedly pushed me off, and we ended up sitting beside each other on the couch. "Nah, went off to hang with some friends that we made earlier today, y'know, from the scouting crew? That group that scavenges for stuff?"

I raised a brow. "Really? You signed up for _that?_ Thought you were more of a guard watcher."

"Leon paired me along with him, I didn't really get much of a choice, Ellie." She rested her hand on the couch arm. "But hey, guy's out of the house, no need to worry for interruptions."

Riley, at that time, was infectious, and yeah, I guess you could say cuddling and enjoying each other's company on the couch was a great way to kick off today's afternoon, considerably after such a tiring morning. I was going to tell her about it, but I was well in the business of enjoying the kisses that we shared on that couch. We were tantalizing and clingy, but it appeared that Riley could notice that something was off.

After breaking apart a third time, she looked at me with a skeptic look.  
"Okay, El, something's up. As much as I love this," She narrowed her eyes. "You smell funny."

Ooh, that hit me.  
I brought up a hand to my injured heart, fragile as each beat struggled by.

"Wow, rude." I faked. "I just showered, is it that bad?"

"No, I mean, you don't smell like. . . you. . . like that Ellie-funk that you normally have going on."

...

"You smell. . . swamp-ish."

Of course. Because I swam in a pond.

Wait.

The thought ran through again.  
_Swam._

...

I _swam_ in a pond.

"Oh, shit, right." I said, suddenly grabbing on to Riley's wrists. "Riley, I fucking _swam_ today. You know, in the pond? Near to where you almost strangled me to death? I swam, it wasn't the most professional swimming technique, but I _swam_."

"Oh, yeah, you told me that you and Joel would. . ." She trailed off, a conflicted look on her face. She cleared her throat before I could raise any questions. "Impressive. What d'you wear?"

"Oh, you know, a shirt and some shorts."  
"Shorts?" Her smirk became predatory, and I laughed. "Ooh, _scandalous_."  
"I know. Malicious as fuck."

She traced circles around my collarbone, quirking a brow. "You know, I think I got a thing for malicious girls with reddish brown hair and green eyes."

"That's very specific of you."

Riley rolled her eyes. "Just come here, will you?"

And with great pleasure, I did.  
Needless to say, the air got pretty heavy.

The kisses turned from passion to lust in just a snap of a finger, and before we knew it, we were all over each other. Grabbing, tugging, and gasping for air. We ended up tackling each other on the couch again, Riley had ended up on top. She smiled, before leaving a kiss on my mouth as she leaned forward on me.

"You're fucking hot to trot, aren't you?"

She could only smile in response.  
I wasn't complaining.

I can only go so far in describing, and yeah, I'm going to stop here. Sorry to burst your bubble. It hadn't gone for too long, anyway, because conveniently, the door opened just before things had started to get real.

_Shit._

Riley fumbled away from me, her white undershirt crumpled as she clumsily sat upright, inching away from me on the sofa. I did the same, our bodies had been red and steaming from not too long ago, my cheeks blushing a pale pink.

His brown hair was what I saw first.  
Oh, Leon, you spoilsport.

He greeted us like he usually did, and his blue eyes went to Riley's, they stared a while longer at each other. The boy gave her a heinous smirk.

...

"Leon," she said, as if warning him.  
He could only smile stupidly in response.

* * *

**7:10 PM**

After arriving from Riley and Leon's as usual, I found Joel at the table, setting two bowls of meager mushroom soup and beverages to gulp the dishes down. When the door closed, his eyes moved across the living room to greet me, and he pursed his lips and smiled, mumbling a 'Hello'.

I walked over and sat on the table across from him, the fluorescent light above us flickered once.

"Thought I cooked some of this soup that's been sittin' in the cupboard for a while." he said, tugging his chair backward as he sat down. I joined him, the air murky and quiet.

As much as a fungal dinner was in no way appropriate to eat during a fungal outbreak, the soup still tasted surprisingly creamy and good. Even if the soup did manage to get Infected, at least I was immune.

Dinner's always consisted of small talk, and after conversing about swimming and days before the outbreak, Joel brought up an offhand comment, one that I didn't seem to notice from the very beginning.

"So, how's Riley?" he queried, and leaving Leon out of the question wasn't brow-raising to me at that time.

"Usually a pain in the ass." I replied truthfully, "To be honest, I can't stand her at times."

He chuckled, drinking his glass of water and setting it aside.

"Well, the only thing worse than a girl you masterfully hate. . ."

...

". . .is a girl you desperately love."

He let those words drop on the table with such casualness that I momentarily sat in my shocked state of mind. My thoughts fell blank, and instantly, the heat on my cheeks returned with great amity. Everything that I held on to at that moment dropped, including the spoon that was used to feed myself with the usual mushroom bowl of soup.

I stared at him, mouth agape, only to find him smirking back with great satisfaction, why on Earth was he amused by this?

"Wh, wha—" I sputtered, and Joel finished his bowl as he set it down with both hands, scooting out of his chair and sending me a warm grin. I felt uncomfortable, my hands gripped the bottom base of the wooden chair so tightly that whiteness had appeared around my knuckles. My stomach lurched as he sent me another casual smile, his lips pressed together tightly.

When, since _when_ did he fucking know?

"Goodnight, kiddo. See you n'the morning."

As he stood up and ruffled my hair, walking over to staircase and into his room, he left me there on the table, left to gape open-mouthed at the wall, as if waiting for me to say something next.

What, did the walls know too?

And as I sat there, the pieces had reluctantly fitted themselves together. And suddenly, it all made sense.

Earlier this week.

When Joel knocked on the door, with his highly unusual timidity and restlessness, he _knew_. He had to know at that time, what else could the coyness be for? Not the fear of wondering whether or not I wanted to swim with him, of course. I tried to recall again, remembering the campfire, the bear, the clinic...

_Shit._

The clinic. I remembered now.

I'd been digging my fingers into the base of the chair too hard that my nails had turned ragged and bumpy.

...

I _kissed_ Riley when she was unconscious.

...

Did Joel walk in on that?

...

"Oh my God."

He did, didn't he?

I slumped into my chair, feeling all the world's embarrassment on my shoulders.

...

He knew.

...

He saw us.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! See you all soon :)**

**-Taco**


	26. Confrontation

**A/N:**

**Hush.**  
**The wait is over.**

**To answer _The Guest's_ question, that's actually something I was thinking of. We'll see how it'll all pan out. (And thanks for complimenting Leon, you're a quirky little anonymous reviewer!)**

* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-six: Confrontation**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**JUNE  
-ELLIE-  
10:17 AM**

Here I was.

An almost fifteen-year-old day-to-day survivor, who, quite literally, would dig switchblades into the unsuspecting necks of narcissist bandits and Infected without even flinching. Sometimes, I would jump off these bridges, drive cars through Infected-swarmed neighborhoods, and would even have the balls to screw humanity over.

So _why_, wasn't I brave enough to get out of bed?

It didn't help that summer kind of officially arrived today. The molten air had crawled in my window with my hair all scattered across like the bushy end of a paintbrush's. My back was inconveniently covered in sweat, my toes were covered in sweat, my forehead was plastered with sweat.

I was sweat.

Sweatier than you could ever imagine, because summer was a bitch to me and my body had apparently converted its temperature to a hundred degrees.

It was the day after last night's dinner.  
Yeah, we all know how that wonderfully panned out, don't we?

We'd been living in Jackson for roughly a month now. From the whole month of May, to the beginning of June. Thanks to the town's accurate calendar located at the center grounds, we were able to properly track which month was which. It was funny though, because I sort of observed this thing in people that when we worry too much about losing time, we would eventually forget time itself. We'd forget about the simple things like damn Wednesdays or Saturdays or which time of the day it is. It was silly.

This whole thing was silly, really.  
What was I doing?

I was caked in bodily fluids, and getting out of bed seemed too tiring. Lying down, I looked up and out of the window, allowing my vision to explore the surroundings outside. All I could see were leaves, hot skies, hot clouds, hot. Everything was _hot_. Probably ninety degrees Fahrenheit, what a fucking misery.

Has it been really a year since the same season? Really been ten hours since the dinner talk?

Oh, God. The dinner talk.

It came to my mind again like a sour lemon, my face scrunching up as I covered my mouth with the sweaty blanket in embarrassment.

Yep, that's why I couldn't get myself out of the bed. Too chicken to face him.

Damn you, Joel.

Last night, I had practically crawled—or to say it better, slithered like liquid—back up to this room. It felt like a millennium reaching here, and probably an addition of two more centuries as I had to make sure that whatever Joel had said was real. The check was mostly because everything during spring seemed pretty fucking unbelievable.

I mean, the lie? Our new home in Jackson? Seeing _Riley?_ Eating bears? This whole _'I know you kissed her'_ ordeal?

I mentally banged my head against the wall behind me.

I could only take so much.

After debating against myself, it was voted that I had to get out of my bed and head down to confront him.

I could hear the faint sounds of clinking and clattering from below the floor, which meant that that was either Joel organizing the plates, or my bones furiously rattling against each other.  


I knew what had to be done.

Gracefully, I rolled out of the bed with my sweat-covered everything along with me. I gave out a thud, and the clinking and clattering beneath me had stopped. I was presuming that he knew I was out of bed.

Great. What was he doing now?

Waiting for me?

Preparing a speech about the goddamned birds and bees?

I groaned, opening the door to the corridor.

It took some time getting used to. To open my door and to find a corridor. Not the wilderness, not a broken-down room, but a corridor. An intact, well-furnished corridor with three doors that led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. A linked staircase could be seen in the middle, heading back down to the first floor.

I did not like this.

The descent down the flight of stairs took me twenty years.

I stood before the staircase, my eyes swerving to the right, which was where the dining room was located at. Peculiarly, it was darker, despite the morning light. The window blinds were unfastened. I quirked a brow in confusion.

"Joel?"

...

Nothing.

Walking over to the windows, I separated the blinds and fastened them to the clips on the side. Light zoomed in and showered the whole place, making me squint my eyes. I groaned once again.

Wait.  
No I didn't.

...

That wasn't my groaning voice. No, definitely not.

Baffled, I turned away from the window and looked around the now lit room. There were empty alcohol bottles strewn across on the table.

Had Joel been drinking last night?

Oh man, was it because of me?

The groaning continued, making my neck prickle. It'd been deep and metallic, like a crowbar grinding against the floor.

My eyes instinctively sought for the sound, and quite conveniently, the pantry closet—right beside the sink—was moving.

I froze.

I think I saw that right.

Yep, it was definitely moving.

After unfreezing myself, I tried and felt for my switchblade located at my pocket—

Right, I was wearing shorts.

Way to go, Ellie. You'd outdone yourself.

The pantry closet continued to shake, and a gargled groan emitted itself from the inside.

Jesus, this peculiarly felt like it came from an R.L. Stine book. No joke. Next thing you know, Frankenstein popped out.

Either the closet was demented, or someone—hopefully Joel—was trapped in there. For safety measures, I ran back upstairs to get my pistol.

You could never be so sure.

Moments later, I was now facing the closet. One hand was wielding the gun, and I'd been aiming it at the middle of the closet. It shook and groaned every now and then, like those jack-in-the-box toys that I did not like at all.

Frighteningly, I outstretched my other hand toward the knob, attempting to open it.

Right now, I'm beginning to think that opening a shaking closet without shooting the inside of it first was a terrible idea on my part.

But it was too late now, and I opened it.

And boy, did I get the biggest surprise of my life.

It all happened fast, too fast, in fact. As soon as the closet doors had gone open, an insurmountable amount of weight had followed along with it. A huge blob—I guessed it was a human figure—fell out and landed on the floor with a low moan.

It was large, Jesus Christ, how could it even fit in the closet?

It moved.

I screamed very inappropriately.

Once recovered, I aimed the gun at the fallen monster, swearing immeasurably like the livid maniac I was.

It rolled to the side, and this blob apparently had a face, a _man_ face. His taupe eyes were beady and sagged, and his skin was layered with facial hair, a rounded stomach was protruding out of him. _Not Joel,_ I thought. _Not Infected._

But I yelled anyway.  
He yelled too.

We were a sensational yelling duo for approximately five seconds, until I stopped and aimed the gun at him more fiercely, with my teeth acting as grinders.

Our voices overlapped.

"—just who the _fuck_ are you—"  
"—waitwaitwait, don't goddamn shoot—"

I raised a brow again and lowered my shaking hand. Wait. That voice was familiar. But how—?

"Who—?" I paused, viewing the lying blob monster-man-figure up and down. Shaking my head, I examined him another time. Those features, they were familiar. Too familiar. I had to remember him from somewhere. . .

...

Oh, _oh._

And that was when it hit me.  
Seeing that beard, those eyes, that defined stomach. . .

...

My eyes diluted.  
Oh, no.

"_Bill_?"

He was now on his feet, slightly wobbling to the left, like the whole world had tilted below him. He groaned, sounding adamantly intoxicated. His garb hadn't changed, which left me pretty concerned. Did he have the same set of attire, or was showering just a myth to him?

Even from a distance, he smelled like burnt rubber.  
Yeah, showering was probably a myth to him.

His greasy hair was now tied to a ponytail, boy style, emphasizing his rather round face structure more definitively. I was left to stand, to just gawk at him. He exhaled fumes of drunken air, traveling to my nose as I scrunched it in disgust upon arrival.

"Ain't it the biggest motherfucking joke seeing you again? Because it's fucking hilarious." he said, laughing dishearteningly.

He was right. This was the biggest fucking joke that I had ever not laughed at. It was unbelievable. This was fucking _Bill_ right in front of me. In Jackson. In Wyoming. The odds were so high I could see them next to the stars and sun.

"What the hell were you doing in the pantry?" I paused for a moment. Not really the question I was looking for. "No. Actually, how are you even here—"

"Ran out of ale and"—he pointed to the pantry—"went to get more. Closet locked me in, ended up drunk and trapped for thirty minutes." He wobbled again. The world beneath him was teetering. "Still drunk."

It took me a while to realize that I had been laughing. Well, half-laughing, half-exasperatedly-sighing. He was chuckling along with me, which made no sense, but it was understandable considering he drank about eighty million alcohol bottles he probably stole from the town's brewery storage.

"This is fucking unbelievable. You— you're _here_." My mouth was dropping immensely low again. I wanted to tell him that now wasn't the time, wanted to tell him to head back to the closet and stay there until Joel and I were done with talking about Riley and my ever-changing feelings for her.

_Ah._ My mind was popping again. _Right_, _Joel._

"And Joel," I spoke up, "have you. . ?"

I trailed off upon finding Bill retreating back to the table, his boots clomping loudly on the floor. Now that I thought about it, I was beginning to theorize that Bill was this offspring of two gargantuan people.

I mean, look at his inhuman girth.

Pushing his enormous size aside, he was completely ignoring my question. And my existence. Picking up a bottle, he attempted to drink, only to receive air.

"God-_fucking-_dammit." he muttered, slumping onto the chair and planting a fist on the table like it was a seed.

I looked at him in disgust.

I did not like drunken Bill.  
Frankly, I did not like Bill at all.

He was back to roaming the dining room, and I was still processing the fact that he was actually here. It was kind of a hard time ruminating with this. A hard time in-_fucking-_deed. The gun eventually fell weightless in my palm, and I was left wondering.

How the hell did he come from Lincoln and all the way to Jackson—

The door opened.  
The anticipation of hearing the sound of shuffling footsteps came forth.

"Oh," said a voice. Deep and calm and rumbling with a healthy dash of Texan cadence. A Joel-ish figure emerged from the doorway, his yellow-checkered plaid shimmering as the sun collided with it. He was standing in all his six-foot glory, a hand finding itself at the back of his neck.

"I ah, I see you've already met."

Bill's head was parallel to the table, a quite disturbing amount of saliva had been pouring out of his half-open mouth and onto the mahogany wood.

Bill, as always, was shutting off all human existence.

Bill, who was drunk.

And Bill, who was always Bill.

He had gone and dozed off on the table without uttering another word. Looking at him made me want to pity him. He was filthy.

A pitiful, filthy, giant offspring.

It sounded quite similar to an ugly duckling fairy tale.

"Yeah, we have," I turned back to Joel and retorted. "Like, a year ago."

He strode into the room, knowing that my face was practically begging him to explain. He emitted unpreparedness, and the usual idiosyncrasy of him scratching the back of his neck was happening yet again. When he started to approach, I spoke up.

"So," Clapping my hands together, I shot him a cordial glare. "If you would be so kind to explain why we have _him—_" I pointed accusingly at the sleeping convict "—in our house, that'd be great."

I completely forgot about last night. About the dinner talk. About him knowing that Riley and I were these two catastrophic teenagers woven together and inseparable. About my whole world falling apart and going immensely wrong the moment he had told me what he'd witnessed. All those memories and thoughts and nightmares were erased. All of it.

Thanks to wonderful, drunken Bill.

"Look, he's had a bad day—"  
"Yeah?" I snapped. "Well, I woke up thinking that there was a fucking _ghost_ in the pantry closet."

"The pantry closet?" Joel's eyebrows were fuzzed and knitted closely together, his voice calm and collected.

"He got himself locked in there, I had to get him out." I said, folding my arms. "Joel, fill me out here."

He sighed, the kind of sigh that was quite similar to the times whenever I brought out my punbook and offered him a healthy dash of my liners. Joel scratched his graying hair, then his beard; until inevitably, his bulky arms had folded across his plaid-printed chest. With my size compared to his, I was definitely a termite.

"We'll talk it over breakfast." He announced, brushing past me softly and eyeing passed-out Bill with his halo of saliva. He scowled lightly, biting his lip down as if struggling through a tough puzzle.

"Well. . . if we can move 'em, anyway. It'll take a damn day try'na lift him up and onto the couch." Joel shook his head.

"You kidding?" I scoffed, glancing at Bill then back up to Joel. "With his size, it'll take a fucking week."

He smiled.  
Bill interjected with an adamant snore.

* * *

**o-O-o**

Third day in Boston's boarding school.

The sky was dark and swimming in a grim flurry of clouds. The moon overlooked from a distance, watching over the earth like a night guardian.

Ellie was quite similar.  
Only, she was watching over Riley.

From the window, in the main building, she had gone ahead and played Stalker on the older girl. She was out on the military grounds where they had first escaped out of school. Inside the building, Ellie realized how small Riley was when watched from afar, how meticulous every part of her seemed, how. . . _different_ she was than the others. Her breathing was deep, she wasn't noticing this, too busy noticing Riley, whom was nearing the fence. _She's going to the mall,_ Ellie thought. Now she was watching her go further and further, and somehow, the redhead couldn't follow her.

She would like to follow her, she really did, but she couldn't. The first day they met, Ellie had stalked her anyway, how was this any different? She tried to move but found cement wrapped around her feet. Wouldn't budge. Her grip on the windowsill was so tightening that she was sure it would've chipped off. But it didn't. Riley's figure was decreasing to a speck. Ellie kept watching, helpless, cement was still on her ankles; Riley became a glowing figure against the dark background surrounding her, she was glowing, glowing and disappearing at the same time.

That was it.  
She had to follow her.

The cement broke off the second Ellie moved her right foot, and now the two girls became glowing specks against the dark sky.

Their movement was silent, quiet silhouettes running and jumping from one rooftop to another. Just typical vigilante adventures, was all. Typical things dystopian teenage girls do during the late nights of September.

Minutes later, Riley reached the open roof of the mall, Ellie was just four yards behind.

She was planning to unveil her presence to her, during their rooftop jumping, she thought calling her attention would have to be mandatory by then, but she didn't. She was Riley's shadow, always behind her, always watching. Not in that creepy way, no. Similar to the moon's.

Riley jumped down the rooftop's hole.

Ellie waited before tailing her, peeking over to find that she was descending the escalator. The redhead gulped and climbed down, shuffling broken glass in the process. _Shit_, she looked down and glanced back up warily, adjusting her hearing. She prayed that Riley didn't know that she was here, prayed that the annoying lurch in her stomach would disappear, prayed that she could have just stopped being so curious and should not have followed her.

She waited until it was clear.

...

Nothing.

Giving out a mute exhale of relief, she continued the stalk.

Instead of heading to the direction of Winston's tent, Riley swerved to the right, baffling the young, tiptoeing Ellie. She followed suit, stopping when Riley climbed the stairs up to an open hole that led to another building's rooftop.

Where was she going?

And when Ellie hesitantly joined Riley to the rooftop, the whole sky fell down on her.

She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Oh," she whispered, just underneath her breath for only her to hear.

On the rooftop, just above their heads, was the whole universe. Twinkling, glistening streaks of light that looked like purple, blue, and green all mixed together. There were speckles of red and blue, soft flurries of white, and a pearly, silky moon that glimmered its light back down on the Earth. Ellie found a rock in her throat, and she swallowed it down, too busy being covered by the blanket of outer space.

When she finished goggling at quite literally everything, she looked back down at Riley. Her back had faced her, her dark green sweatshirt rippling against the evening wind. Ellie suddenly felt the need to flatten the creases on her clothing, she suddenly felt the need to get as close as possible to her so bad that her forehead started to collect sweat.

_Maybe this is a bad idea,_ Ellie thought._ Maybe I—_

Riley's back turned.

"Hey," she said, and then a smile was plastered on her face. All at Ellie's direction. Without the younger girl's preparedness, Riley spread her arms wide, her head dipped upwards. "What a view, huh?" Her eyes went back to Ellie's.

She was asking as if it was the most casual thing on Earth and that they'd been watching the sky a thousand times. It was enough to make her blood stop circulating, enough to make her breathing stop.

She was grinning_._ Then suddenly, the stars, suns, and planets had all tumbled down and rolled into her widespread arms. Ellie froze, mesmerized by the girl.

The girl who caught the galaxy in her arms.  
Shortly after, the Milky Way had went back up to its designated place in the canvas thousands of feet above them. She didn't notice that cement had found its way back to her feet.

What she was very well aware of, though, was that Riley Abel was looking at her.

And it was as if the stars were looking at her, that everyone in Boston, the Earth, the universe was looking at her.

"Yeah," she continued after a lifetime cycle, placing her arms back on her sides, "kinda figured you were here. Really gotta work with the stealth."

So much for being secretive.

"Sorry, I—" Ellie was sputtering, her hands were sweaty and shaking and rattling, she was grateful for the invention of pockets and jammed her sweaty fingers into the fabric pouches. Her speech processes were malfunctioning, they had never done that before. How peculiar. "I didn't mean to stalk y— I mean, you know, follow you, I. . . I thought that— I _assumed_ that, that you were heading off here so—. . . I should go."

Riley remained standing, shooting her a stare so unambiguous that Ellie was unsure whether or not she was telepathically telling her to leave.

The younger girl wished that she could just stop staring at her with those eyes of hers. Riley's freaking eyes. Light brown and shimmering even at night, and those eyes were splintered with even darker shades of brown. Like a spoke. A spectrum of magnificent coffee-related colors. She imagined Riley up in the sky, as if she belonged there, her eyes glowing more profoundly than the stars. What was it like up there, anyway? Okay, she needed to stop this. _Stop thinking about her eyes. _Tried. Didn't work. Couldn't help it.

They were squinting now, and narrowed; Ellie realized that this was all still happening. Her mind was so crowded with thoughts. So many, many thoughts. Riley probably perceived her as a freak, like she always was. Always that bookworm freak that fought whenever the opportunity of fighting seeded in. Always the one without friends. Always the one left alone.

Ellie cleared her throat. Right. The _I should go _thing.

Before she could turn on her heel, Riley stopped her.

"No, Ellie," she said, casually. But that was the only thing she heard, the rest of the words that had driven themselves out of Riley's mouth were muted. The younger girl felt something jab her in the stomach. She wished she could hear her talk all day long. _Ellie._ The way her name rolled off of Riley's tongue—oh, great, she was staring at her mouth now. They were moving, the redhead tried to lip read, couldn't. Too focused on the mouth, the lips. Her pocketed hands were shaking. Riley was talking again, but she couldn't hear her. _Stop it._ she thought to herself._ Stop thinking about her lips, stop it, stop it, stop—_

"Ellie." said the voice, sounding clearer. The redhead's trance was cut off, her head shook and her cheeks were flushed. Wow, who knew staring at mouths could cause so much fat burning?

"Yeah?" she breathed out, not meaning to sound exhausted.  
_Nice one, Ellie._

"I said, it's cool." and Riley smirked again with a raised brow. That hypnotic smirk. "Gets kinda tiring when you watch the stars alone."

But she was wrong. So very, very wrong.  
What Ellie Williams knew that Riley didn't was that whenever she gazed up at the night sky, so did millions of others. All those varied pairs of eyes just taking in the sight of the galaxy. The fact that those sparkling, minuscule dots of colors could be capable of letting countless people all gaze up at it simultaneously was mind-blowing. Hell, even hunters and the lowliest of low would look up and wonder. It was phenomenal.

You would _never_ be alone when watching the stars.

Ellie was so caught up in this thought that she didn't notice that she was beginning to sit next to Riley at the precipice of the roof they were sitting on. She panicked and backed out, making Riley—who was already getting comfortable sitting down—look up at her in puzzlement.

"What?" she asked, but Ellie did not answer.

...

Assuming that the redhead was afraid of heights, Riley, with her confidence, patted the space beside her which was hand language for, _C__ome sit with me. _"Don't worry," She smiled, that kooky, son of a gun smile. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

"Why don't you just catch me now?" Ellie swooned, only it came out as, "I'm not afraid of heights."

(She actually was).

"Well," Riley patted the space again. "What're you waiting for, then?"

_I'm waiting for you to quit being so damn eccentric._ she wanted to say. But again, the poor girl was mum, and she therefore had no other choice but to join her and sit down.

When she did, she wished she didn't have followed her all the way here.

The both of them were plopped down, legs dangling in the air as they watched the universe above them unfold. Due to the rising decrease of smog since the fall of humanity, the sky had grown clearer. Much, much more clearer, in fact, that almost eighty percent of the stars and other heavenly bodies glistening above would've been invisible twenty years ago.

Inevitably, the universe engulfs all.

Ellie wasn't feeling it though. She was too busy engulfing Riley, or, rather, too busy _getting_ engulfed by Riley. Yes, even thirteen-year-old delinquents who use compasses to stab children's knees for a living get nervous. She was extremely nervous. And fidgety. She couldn't figure out why. She couldn't understand why it seemed almost impossible to act normal around her, this. . . this Abel character. Such a peculiar girl, wasn't she? Always changing, always so secretive, always so mysterious that Ellie wanted nothing more but to peer inside of her, to find what had been hidden in the hollow holes of her face.

Riley's words bounced off of her mind like rubber balls. _"You seem crazy enough to be interesting."_

And then, Ellie was looking at her. She watched Riley's pant-clad legs as they dangled and occasionally bumped into hers and then have it casually retracted back. The redhead was convinced she was doing this on purpose. Yes, definitely, she even had her leg linger a second longer before pulling it back, for Christ's sake! What was she trying to tell her?

When Riley wasn't looking, Ellie would steal a glance at her direction.

She would see Riley's brown eyes looking back up at the stars, and her eyes were glistening, gleaming, and begging to return back up to the sky where they truly belonged. She watched her point at a cluster of the heavenly bodies, uttering some sort of constellation that Ellie didn't seem to register, but nodded anyway.

In the meantime, she watched Riley breathe. She watched her as she breathed in oxygen and exhaled stardust. Only she could be able to do that. Only Riley. Ellie watched as she simply existed, and existed; and the younger girl was debating whether or not Riley was in the same group of human species that she was in.

No, maybe _she_ was the alien. Because Ellie was certain that no human being other than herself could ever be this observing.

_I guess I really am crazy,_ she thought.

She decided to look at the stars instead. They were a million times better than 15-year-old girls with brown-hued universes for eyes.

"You said you were fifteen, right?" she questioned the stars, oblivious that she hadn't talked in a while.

"Yep. What about you?"

"I uh, I'm the same."  
She lied.

You do not lie to newly-founded friends.  
You should not look at the stars in lieu of their face when talking to them.

_No. Fuck, fuck. Why did I just say that?_ She was mentally clawing her eyes._ Why the _hell _did I just say that?_

"Oh." was the only registered reply. Ellie was cringing horribly at herself. _Idiot._ she berated herself internally._ Liar. You self-conscious, knee-stabbing, condescending liar. _Great, now she couldn't even bare to look at Riley, afraid of seeing the distrust in her universal eyes. She flat out deceived to her, and she probably knew it too! She looked at her records, for crying out loud, it had to be certain that she knew her age. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She felt trapped, and wished so bad to return back home and never make eye contact with her ever again. She was overreacting, she knew it, but couldn't help it. She was humiliating herself and it was worse than doing it publicly. Way worse. She should have never interacted with Riley, to never have met her. But they did, and now everything had gotten complicated.

"I'm actually thirteen." she blurted out, not withstanding the guilt any longer. Riley's only explicit expression was a half-smirk, implying that she knew. "Yeah, kind of figured."

She really did read through her records!  
It was conflicting her whether or not to rejoice or do the exact opposite.

Whichever won, however, didn't matter.

"Sorry, I. . . I don't know what's gotten into me." She was spilling out her mind now. _No. _Berating herself again. _Stop, Ellie. Stop._ "I think I just tied my tongue there a little. But, yeah, I'm just, I don't know. I really don't know. Ever since the mall"—Ellie's green eyes started glinting and she could've sworn Riley was staring at her—". . .I just wanted to uh, hang out again. And then when. . . when I saw you sneaking out of school I thought I could. . . you know, thought it'd be nice but. . . fuck. It's no big deal, really, I totally understand if you don't want me here anymore. No biggie."

Oh, but it was a biggie.  
A big, _big_ biggie.

Ellie remembered one of the comic books she had read some time ago. Triple Phoenix, was it?

Yes, it was her favorite.

It was the fascinating story of three, mutated pigeon brothers who fought the injustice that was occurring regularly in their city. It all seemed so fantastically magical, heavily contrasted compared to the world she was living in.

It made young Ellie think.

Why did she have to be a human?  
Why?  
Why not be a mutated pigeon?

Those birds would not have a care in the world, only eating toasted baguettes and fighting crime whenever there was a need to.

Life would have been so, _so_ much more easier if she had been a pigeon—  
Her animal transformation dreams were cut short when Riley had started laughing.

Oh.

...

_Oh!_ Ellie thought, completely scratching the whole pigeon idea._ She's laughing!_

"Seriously?" Her grin blinded Ellie with the colors of redorangeyellowgreenblue.  
"You may be crazy and uh, talkative, but you sure damn lighten the mood around here, to be honest."

Oh, what a relief! And she told her that she was mood lightener!  
She had never been called such a name before, but on the bright side, Riley wasn't bothered at all.

And that was great!

For the second time, the younger girl turned to face the galaxies present in both of Riley Abel's eyes, succumbing to her. In her terms, it was totally better to not be a pigeon if it meant missing the astonishing view present in Riley's lens.

"Thank God I'm not a fucking pigeon!" Ellie sighed happily to herself, only it actually came out of her mouth.

Her _mouth_.

Which, devastatingly, had probably already entered Riley's ears.

_Oh.  
_  
She tried to take it back, but it was unfortunately too late, because Riley was gawking at her, almost as if everything she had said prior was non-existential.

Maybe if Ellie ignored the persistent stare, it might just go away. Like an itch.  
(But itches only go away when you scratch at them).

Riley kept looking at her. "What?"  
She tried to act natural, but of course, it had rendered useless. "What what?" she replied back. It was impossible to look at her now, so her green eyes went back up to the stars. At least they hadn't been staring back at her judgmentally.

Ellie was preparing herself to hear those words: _Freak._

...

Instead of hearing the calls, which Ellie was so sure would happen, Riley was laughing again.

Only harder.  
"You thank God you're not a _pigeon?_"

It occurred to the both of them on how ridiculous it sounded when said verbally. And now, they were both laughing.

The air was abundant with teenage joy.

"Yes. Wait, no. I mean—" Ellie garbled out between the chuckles, and now they were _really_ laughing.

They had been giggling so hard and wild and happily that Ellie had never felt so comfortable despite the awkwardness that seeped into her from time to time. It was a respite that they both desperately needed: a good laugh.

When the guffaws had stopped, both of the girls' abdomens had hardened.

"Oh, man," Riley covered her stomach and lurched forth, completely oblivious to the fact that she was leaning _forward. _On the edge of a _building_. "Ellie, you really are fucking crazy."

"Yeah, I guess I am." she said, smiling back at her and not even nervous or fidgety or hands-in-her-pockets-awkward anymore. Because all at once, she realized that this wasn't some typical, staring, judgmental, narcissistic asshat. This was someone she could be herself with.

This was Riley.

So when the minutes had ticked away and when they both looked up at the sky, they spotted a meteor that had burned up and zoomed right past the stars, clouds, and galaxies. Both of their eyes twinkled. The two of them had turned into universes, with Riley's gleaming brown ones and Ellie's twinkling green's.

"Shooting star," Riley said, her voice hushed but excited. "Make a wish."

On her third day in the Boston quarantine zone, where she sat together with her out-of-this-world friend on the edge of a building, Ellie made her wish. Even if she knew that wishes were for children and that the chances of it coming true were highly unlikely, she had done it anyway.

...

"Well?" perked the older girl. "You done?"

And when Ellie looked from the zooming meteor then back at Riley Abel's quizzical face, she smiled, nodding once. "Yup."

"What was it?"  
"What was what?"

"Your wish, pigeon-brain." Riley's lips curved slightly upward, and her hypnotic smirk was once again present.

Ellie paused, hesitant, before saying, "If I say it, it won't come true."

Riley frowned.

In fairness, she was absolutely correct.

She wasn't going to risk the chance. Not ever. Not even if wishes were a children's myth. She constantly suffered from an ominous past, and it was due to the fact that everyone in her life—literally _everyone_ she knew and thought mattered, had left her. Her mother, her acquaintances from previous schools, even friendly military officers who have vowed to protect her had abandoned the girl for their own petty excuses. Maybe that was why Ellie had been so closed-in, so unapproachable, so angry, so confused. . .

So alone.

Then suddenly, as if fate had crossed her, she had met Riley. And then everything became a blur, she found herself befriending again, found herself laughing along with her, goofing off, helping the Fireflies with her, and doing everything she thought that couldn't have been done before with her.

Ellie found herself _caring_ for Riley.  
And that was what had scared her the most. She was starting to open up to her, and as far as she remembered, if she cared for someone, they would abandon her.

Before the two of them stood up and returned to the school together, Ellie's lips had shut stubbornly, sealing her wish no matter how many times Riley attempted to persuade her into telling her what it was about (Riley even went ahead and told hers: She wanted to ride her own bike). Ellie refused, and refused, still afraid of it not coming true if she ever confessed.

The wish was, of course, obvious  
But it took no trouble in being so heartfelt.

...

She wished Riley would never leave.

**o-O-o  
**

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
10:40 AM**

Over breakfast, Joel had thoroughly elaborated to me the origins of drunken Bill and his infamous adventures to Wyoming.

Apparently, a couple of months after leaving Lincoln, Bill's town was overrun by bandits, forcing him to leave without a moment's notice. For several months, he'd been roaming the rest of the United States, stopping at various towns in hopes of settling there and reinforcing his old barracks. Each effort failed. And his prior attempt was infiltrating Jackson, where both Tommy and Joel had found him throwing liquor bottles at the eastern wall last night, yelling drunk gibberish. Still stunned, Joel'd apparently offered that he'd let him in the house for the night, where Bill had surprisingly nabbed some alcohol from a nearby brewery before trapping himself inside of the pantry closet this morning.

It was kind of shitty.

"And he's gonna stay here? In Jackson?" I asked, sounding affronted by the possibility. I turned to Bill's direction, who was still passed out and lying with his mouth agape on the nearby settee.

Ah, right. Back story.  
Joel and I had attempted to haul him over to the couch, only to wake him up accidentally. Still in a drunken faze, he volunteered to move there himself. Like the true gentleman he was.

Joel shrugged, stabbing a piece of dried meat with his fork nonchalantly.

"Well, you an' I both know how he is." His eyes looked sunken, hazel and deep. "He uh, he ain't particularly a people person."

He passed the plate of dried beef to me, I dropped two of it on my dish.

"Or a person in general, really."  
"Ellie."

Ignoring his soft scold, I shrugged, continuing to eat. "Have you talked to Tommy and Maria?"

He nodded. "S'why I went out this mornin'. Depends on what Bill wants. If he's smart, he'd choose to stay."

"But that's the problem with him." I muttered. Previously facing his plate, Joel's head had turned to me.

"Hm?"

"He thinks it's better to throw up these walls and to shut off everything around him. But it's not." I was surprising myself. "You know. . . he, um, he reminded me of you, Joel. Back then? If you dropped me off to Tommy. . . you could've been like him."

There was something in his face that made me think that he wanted to object. His mouth opened slightly, but closed midway. His eyes looked at mine. They weren't cold, nor unfeeling, but warm. They were unambiguous. His gaze dropped back to the meal, lips pursed and tight.

He wasn't objecting because it was true.

And the thought of him becoming like Bill scared the hell out of me. That Joel could have been as detached, apathetic, and lonely as him that he would have to resort to writing notes and talking to himself. A sick, ghastly feeling was starting to rumble in the pit of my stomach.

And then, together, we both knew.  
Even without talking or giving sidelong glances, we both knew that if the Infected or bandits weren't going to kill him first, suicide would have ended Joel's life had he left me with Tommy and returned back to Boston alone.

...

"Yeah." he said, nodding softly. "I know."

A dimension opened, a side of Joel. One that I had never seen before until this very moment. Suddenly, the walls that were separating us started to fall down, the same walls that had been erected right before we entered Jackson.

When he swore to me.

...

Seemingly, the lie started to matter lesser and lesser.

...

"So. . ." Joel hung on the last note, twirling his spoon as it laid prostrate on the plate. "Ellie. 'Bout last night,"

Oh.

I tore my gaze from the plate and glanced back up to find Joel, whose expression which constantly showed steadiness now seemed faltering. He didn't stop fiddling with the spoon; while I, on the other hand, couldn't stop fiddling with my goddamned feet under the table.

Way to ruin the contemplative moment.

And then, as if on cue, all those overreacting thoughts, silly nightmares, and assumptions were hurdling back towards me. A gust of wind slammed onto my chest, hurling me out of my chair. The impact sent my back to the wall behind me, slamming against it with a neck-prickling_ crack. _Due to the immeasurable force, the house's frame started to collapse, and the roof had suffocated both I, Joel, and drunken Bill.

That didn't happen though. Obviously.  
Although, it would've been a million times better if it did. Because there was no way to escape this confrontation, no way.

Joel and I remained on the chairs. Sitting. Anticipating for either to speak. It was a horrifying waiting game, with my eyes glued to the mildly interesting pieces of beef lying modestly on the platter before me. Joel's hawk eyes didn't plan on leaving me anytime soon.

The silence was deafening, not even Bill was capable of making a sound.  
And centuries later, when I turned roughly 315-years-old, the long thread of quietness had been cut.

"Ellie." His three-hundred-and-fifty-something voice was stern.

_Oh, boy._

I could see it now. Early death. Death by disapproval of an overpowering guardian. If it would come to that, I would very much like Riley and I's tombstones built together solemnly on the top of a plateau, overlooking Jackson. Yes, I could definitely imagine that. Then, these apple trees would be hanging over our graves. Beautiful, serene apple trees. God, that was like my favorite fucking fruit back then. It would be good for the afterlife, I suppose—

"Ellie." interrupted the overpowering guardian, a second time. "It's okay."

What?

I looked up from my plate, the word flying out of my mouth. "What?"

His hazel eyes folded back down to his cutlery, attempting to tear the beef with more sophistication. Once he popped the meat in with a fork, he looked at me, half-smiling, half-chewing.

"It don't matter."  
I felt all the nervousness acting as an aura around me drop down like flies, confusion replacing it.

It didn't matter?

You mean, he didn't mind it at all? The thing with Riley and I?  
He didn't mind it?

Him? _Joel?  
_ Overprotective, strict, and terrifying Joel?

...

I was speechless. And thoughtless.

"Wha—" I sputtered, after rebooting my brain. "But . . . I thought . . ."

His face turned stoic, his pupils glancing back up from the plate to stare in to my eyes. It'd been a while since they had terrified me. This time, it was in a different kind of way. The Medusa kind of way.

"Ellie," he spoke, "listen to me when I say this."

And so I did.

"Though I'd be uh, lyin' if I ain't surprised 'bout it, but the truth is, it don't matter." he said. I couldn't even _believe_ what I was hearing. "I know it ain't one o'my brightest decisions tellin' you what I saw, and I understand how uncomfortable it was for you t'deal with it the whole night. You know I ain't the best at these, er, _talks_, so I figured it'd be best if I tried to tell it to you as casually as possible."

"It didn't feel casual." I told him.  
He nodded, smirking. "Yeah, your face from last night admitted that."

We chuckled uncouthly. I think my soul weathered away after each.

Joel continued his proverbial teaching:

"What I mean, Ellie, is that it doesn't matter. It ain't the end of the world—but I'm sorry to've made y'feel like it was. It ain't any of my intentions, honest. And to be _really_ honest with you, it ain't a problem to me. If it was, then I woulda been too damn busy try'na solve other whatnots and puttin' my head together and keepin' sane anyhow. I've been in your shoes, back when I was a boy and a teenage idiot. It's all 'bout findin' who you really are. I don't care if she's your best friend or not or both or complicated. What I do care, though, is that y'tell me these kinds of things before I even get the chance to discover 'em." He paused, a good, long, considerable pause that made him look a thousand years wiser than he originally was. "I trust that y'know what you're doing. And knowin' that that girl probably means a thousand suns to ya, then I shouldn't be worrying."

End of Joel Miller's monologue.  
The room fell silent, with the table of mahogany and Bill's distant snoring and my feet tapping the not mahogany floor. My overprotective but not-so-overprotective guardian moved his eyes from me to everywhere, making sure that I had registered every single word that fell out of his mouth just moments ago.

"Okay?" he asked, smiling and then cutting beef then smiling again.

I couldn't even keep up with it. With all of of it. I had been too busy replaying his sixty-whatever-second speech in my head over and over and over again like a scientist trying to make sense of words that had already made sense but was somehow unsure of why it was so. Same went for the question he gave me, as it went over and over and over again in my head like a never-ending record player and making me such a thought-aggressive person full of pent-up feelings and emotions.

And that was when I stopped the immense train of thoughts and the never-ending record player and the wooden floor tapping and everything and everyone on earth. The next second, I was looking at Joel, and he was looking at me, and then the walls separating us that were starting to collapse not too long ago began to sink some inches lower. I realized how utterly absurd everything was, and how I'd been melodramatically dealing with all these problems regarding Rileys and lies and overprotective guardians and collapsing houses and drunken Bills that I'd been making what seemed like issues a thousand times heavier than they were prior.

I needed to stop worrying so much.  
And thinking. Really had to work on the thinking. I think I coughed up, like, an essay's worth of words up there. Sorry about that.

...

"Okay." I replied, and we finished breakfast in comfy silence.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. And it wasn't just because of the Never-ending List of Reasons that I brought with to everywhere, but because it didn't matter.

The thought went through again.

_It didn't even matter._

* * *

**-RILEY-  
3:02 PM**

The sky was alive with a dissonance of vulgarities.  
Oh, and arrows.

Lots and lots of arrows.

Scouting had been replaced by bow practice. Yes, ever-wonderful and beautiful bow practice. Out of all the things I was good at, wielding a piece of curved wood and drawing it was my worst nightmare. Robin Hood would be disappointed.

We were a dozen yards outside of Jackson, in a clear forested place that sported trees that were aligned neatly. Each person was stationed to a certain tree, Yusuf had already placed targets and everything on them using scavenged red face paint. Or, you know, other reddish _alternatives_ that I didn't really feel like diving in to.

He thought that it would be good to practice.  
All I had wanted was to sleep in for the day.

But no, Leon and his douchebaggery from yesterday had forced me out of my bed this morning by using his Let's-Pull-Riley-Out-Of-The-Bed-Like-A-Maniac method. We arrived to training some time later, with Leon's left cheek slightly swollen, courtesy from yours truly.

After minutes and minutes of yells and guides, Yusuf threw his hands in the air, muttering in a strange language I could not understand.

"Practice! All of you, practice. How will you shoot Clicker with aim like that?" He shook his head. "Again, again! Ah, _nyet._ Your mothers should disown you. Horrible. Infected by tomorrow."

Naturally, the frustration of not hitting the targets and his continuous bashing had gotten to some of us.

After some time, he clapped his hands together. "Alright. Everyone, all at once, _draw!_"

Yusuf was pacing left to right, like a predator, examining his students like prey. His hands were folded across his red-flanneled chest, the black vest he had donned on was glinting like shiny coals. I kept the bow aloft, pulled to a drawn position, though not releasing.

By my left side, two persons away from me, was Leon, narrowing his eyes as best as he could. I steadied the bow in my hands, pulling the drawstring taut. The arrow's end feathers had tickled the tips of my fingers. My eyes bore onto the pretty okay circle implanted onto the tree's bark five yards ahead of me. Totally got this.

"Release!"

There was a cacophony of wind-cracking and arrow-thunking.

...

Then, silence.  
The _awaiting for intense moderation_ kind of silence.

When we were all brave enough to observe the results of our lower than mediocrity aiming, the outcome affronted us.

All the arrows had failed to hit the center base.  
Yusuf had his eyebrows knitted together fiercely, he shook his head again, uttering something under his foreign language that sounded like German but wasn't.

"Get your arrows back. Repeat. Practice until your arms hurt." The crowd responded with a violent groan, some of them even dropping their makeshift bows to the ground in frustration. Even Ivanik couldn't help but curse in his native tongue. Yusuf didn't waver. "Stop only when you hit center. No weaklings in our crew, _nyet._ Not one. Understand? Now, go."

"Who the hell is this guy?" muttered a boy to my right, aiming for the red target and missing and then swearing again.

"Quit it, he'll hear you." another one whispered, shooting an arrow and having it land just some centimeters away from the center. The first boy had short, dark blond hair, a strange-shaped nose similar to a shovel, and a deep voice that didn't fit his size. Something about how he looked reeked _miscreant_ in all directions. Hey, just assuming here.

"Yeah? Well, let 'em hear me." And just as expected, his voice was raised. Curtness and asshattery present. "Foreign bitch who calls us _weaklings_ oughta be more polite to people with bows!"

Yusuf, who had his back turned to us, swiveled around. His beard similar to Joel's was looking a hundred times more intimidating than before.

Everyone had paused their arrow shooting and collecting.

You do not insult experienced tutors.  
You should not be calling them female dogs.

"Foreign bitch, you say?" he queried, accent thicker. The boy continued to stand, sporting almost the same height as his proctor.

"Yeah," he swiped a finger across his nose. "I signed up for Infected killing and bandit hunting. Not how to set up fucking campfires and listening to the complaints of alienated sons of _bitches_."

Ooh, that hit him.

Yusuf eyed him up and down, shaking his head bitterly once finished.

"A shame you must be to your parents."

The boy's eyebrows were furiously knitted together. "My parents are fucking dead."

"Ah," said he, eyes still glaring. "On the bright side, they do not need to see their child grow up to become such a disappointment."

The boy was thoroughly incensed.

And being an infuriated, angry, raging bull, he threw a punch at Yusuf's direction, only to have the target duck effortlessly.

"Shit—"

Carried on with the force, the boy almost doubled over. He would have, if it hadn't been for Yusuf countering him from behind with a punch and sending him to the ground like a mere rag doll.

Three sounds collided all at once: A crash, a curse, and stumbling rocks.  
Yusuf planted his sturdy boot onto the boy's back, as if claiming the land that belonged to him.

"You ought to be more polite to people with bows." he snarled, slowly, word by word. "But unlike me, silly boy, you cannot aim for shit."

The boy below him grunted. Everyone'd remained in the line, not daring to move or disrupt anything.

"Think you can handle yourself better?" He removed his foot off the boy's back. "Go. One day in woods. And I swear on _mamochka's_ grave that you'll be torn by Clickers the next morning."

**_x_**

The walk back home to Jackson was eerily quiet, the only common sounds were the rustling and sweeping of soft grass. The boy who had attempted to punch Yusuf was the last person in the crew, lagging behind tiresomely and mumbling every now and then.

It was kind of sad.

"You think it was a little bit too harsh?" asked Leon, hands in his pockets. "With the parents thing?"

Piper shrugged, kicking a smooth stone into a small puddle. "Chadwin's an idiot for even trying to step up to the guy, kind of deserved it, if you ask me."

Benton nodded, stringing the straps of his backpack. "Yep. Ol' Petrov can be scary as fuck." His orange hair was practically glittering against the sun. "Which reminds me, Riley, your quietness is almost frightening."

I raised my eyebrows.  
"Do I really look like a murderer?"

"I don't think he means it like that." said Leon. And then we were entering back inside Jackson, the screeching and metallic clawing of the gates echoing into the forest. Guards stationed on the top of the towers held their guns and aimed, anticipating any Infected who had been lured by the sound, it was something that happened on a day-to-day basis.

"Because I care, and I'm a good person." Self-aggrandizing Bent at his finest. "You matter to me, okay, Riley?"

"I'm beginning to think that you like me more than you're supposed to." I said monotonously. Although internally, I was freaking out. Oh, _God_, what if he was?

It was obvious too. For the past few days of knowing each other, he had been trying to get on my good side. Landing off jokes and witty responses and often trying too hard to impress 17-year-old girls like me for a living. Don't get me wrong, he was great to have around. But I think giving him signs that I definitely wasn't interested seemed almost impossible for him to decipher. How the hell did he even manage to like me, anyway?

Benton faked refusal. "Don't be silly. We barely know each other for, like, a week."

"She has a girlfriend, anyway." Leon smirked.

We all stopped walking.

...

_Oh, you little bitch._

...

I glared at him, pulled out my knife, and stabbed him straight in the gut. He continued to smirk, oblivious.

Piper seemed more fascinated than surprised. "What, who?"  
Poor Benton's bravado and confident face had started to dampen.

"I, uh, it's kind of perso—"  
"You know Ellie?" interrupted my beloved friend, the knife still in his abdomen. I mentally screamed _NO!_ in front of his face. Even went in and pushed the knife in some more. And yet, he was still fucking oblivious. Everyone was.

"You mean the redhead with green eyes, and the scar on her brow?" Piper folded her arms. "Yeah, sort of."

"That's her."  
"Oh. Cool."

There was a pause, and Benton turned his forlorn head to me. "How long?"  
_Wow._

I couldn't even believe that we were having this fucking conversation.

All I felt like doing at the moment, was to acquire mole claws and burrow into the ground and live there forever. I would then spend the rest of my days plotting for vengeance on Leon, eventually crafting up a brilliant plan to kill him as accordingly and elaborate as possible. Yeah. . . that would totally work. I could see it now. Mole-Riley exacting revenge on an unsuspecting Leon Hutt.

Fortunately, when the years of walking was put to a stop, we arrived at the front of our house, quickly bidding farewell to both the cousins before they would leave. Benton and Piper were unusually acting normal, despite the former being upset, but hey, that wasn't any of my fucking business.

"See you tomorrow," Leon yelled out, waving. I pushed him to the door, causing him to tumble inside of the house.

_See you tomorrow?_

I scoffed, most probably going about 300% schizo at the time.

_That is, if you'll make it by then._

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
TWO DAYS LATER  
7:21 PM**

"Well, that's news." she said, leaning at the side of the windowsill, her gun and a rag on both hands.

Riley's frame was growing taller by the day, her scout training had served her well, giving her leaner muscles and a more healthy look. She brushed off the dust that'd collected on her gun that she had barely used in weeks. The magazine clip was empty, making it impossible to accidentally fire and kill someone. Unless, you know, the bullets were invisible. That would be cool.

Moving that aside, I had finally told Riley about basically everything two days ago. I told her about Bill, his drunken adventures, and the wise, proverbial confrontation of Joel's.

Overall, it was a good storytelling session.

"So . . . he's okay with it?"  
I nodded, "Pretty sure."

Riley scoffed, exiting out of the leaning position and walking over to the side of her bed, where I was. She set the cleaned gun on the bedside table, our shoulders colliding as she sat down along with me. "Well. Guy's not as bad as I thought he is."

"You really need to bond with him more."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

...

"But uh, I've got some news, too." She gulped something down. Something big and large and not wanting to get swallowed.

...

"Leon knows."

I turned to her. "I thought he knew since the beginning?"  
"No, it's just that, he's"—she leaned in closer, like a young child whispering her first swearword—"he's told some people that . . . that you're my girlfriend."

For a millisecond, something stopped. And I wasn't sure whether it was my heart, brain, or both. Whether it was my toes just curling up or my hand just gripping onto her arm for a brief moment. It wasn't just because of people finding out about us, but because of the term she used. _That_ term.

"Girlfriend?" I said, and it felt like trying on some sets of clothes that hadn't been worn before. It was peculiar. Strange.

It was . . . funny.

Riley nodded, "Yeah."

And then I laughed.

Why?  
Because she just called me her fucking girlfriend.

"Why're you laughing?"  
"Girlfriend." I repeated. More laughing. All coming from me, and not my _girlfrien_—

Sorry, sorry, I don't think I could take that word seriously.

She didn't look amused. "You're laughing."  
"Yes, Riley," I grinned, "that's right. Who's laughing?"

"What?"

"Your _girlfriend_. Your _girlfriend _is laughing."  
"I don't get you."  
"You don't?" More laughing.  
"No."

And then after multiple failures, I finally restrained myself from giggling so damn much. "Do you have any idea how silly that sounds?"

"The G-word?" Riley queried.  
"Wow, listen to you._ The G-word?_ You sound like a child trying to say _fuck_ without swearing."

She ignored me. "What's so funny about it?"  
I grabbed her arms. "Think about it, Riley." I told her. "After all this time, we've never addressed each other as girlfriends. Why'd you think so?"

"Well. . ." A pause. "I didn't think it mattered what we called each other, really."

_Aha!_ She just hit the epiphany, "There you have it!"

"There you have what?"

...

"Oh." She said again. "Oh, I see."  
"You get it now?" I smiled, releasing the grip. "So what if he told some people that I was your girlfriend? Right? Big-fucking-whoop. Have a cookie, congratulations to him for finding that out."

"So you don't care at all?"  
I paused, and shrugged all the garbage off my shoulders. "Nope."

"So, perhaps you wouldn't mind if . . ." She placed a hand on her chin, thinking position, ". . . if I told you, that Leon saw us that night?"

"Which night?" I raised a brow. "There're many nights."  
"_That_ night."  
"Uh."  
"_The_ night?"

Shook my head. "Nope."  
"You know," she said. "It was _th__e_ night."

"Emphasizing the _The_s and _That_s won't change my answer, Riley."

She groaned. "The night where we saw each other again."

Then, the memories all came flooding in.  
"Oh."

I remembered her universal eyes and her intergalactic everything, with heavenly bodies and galaxies swirling around us in our own little universe. I remembered the kiss. With our bodies colliding against each other like sun-less, wandering planets and our arms covering every inch of ourselves as we grunted out for each other's names. I could feel our breaths on each other, haggard and lackadaisical and strong and good and bad and rebellious and wrong and right.

"Oh," I said again. "He saw that. . ?"  
Riley nodded.  
"Oh."  
"Yeah."

...

She looked at me with that _'I told you so'_ kind of expression. "Still don't care if he knew?"

"I slightly do, now."  
"I figured."

And then we ended up talking, laughing whenever one of us would say _girlfriend_ and then we wouldn't stop and even if we did, one of us would say _girlfriend_ again and the cycle would continue on and on and on and I wouldn't be tired of it at all. We would later crave for each other, and I remembered our bodies on each other, starved for like that day when we reunited again. I clawed at her skin, and she pulled my hair and released the ponytail, we didn't even care because we were so caught up in it all.

We didn't even care if our birthdays had gone by or if there were still Infected roaming around or hunters or bandits or cannibals or anything. We didn't even care about lies or if it was getting late and that I had to get to Bill who had now moved to a shackle out east of Jackson where he was left in solitude like he always wanted.

Before I left, we had kissed. And we had kissed and we'd paused and we had kissed again for one last time and another time, and another, until I really, absolutely, positively had to go.

And again, we didn't care.

Why?

Because it didn't even goddamn matter.

* * *

**AN HOUR LATER**

Bill was sober.

I think the non-drunk version of Bill emphasized my hatred for him more.

But fuck it, Joel'd assigned me to check daily if he was doing alright in his new home because he couldn't do it himself and that it _didn't even matter._

But it did matter. I couldn't understand why I had to be the one doing this, couldn't understand why every time I would try and be friendly to this bear of a man, he'd reject and curse me away like a bad omen. Couldn't understand that the moment I stepped foot into his quaint cabin, he groaned from his small kitchen where he was assembling some weapons and told me that I had no place in his territory.

When I ultimately asked him what his favors were, like Joel'd told me to tell him, he replied in the most courteous way possible.

"Yeah, kid?" He didn't budge from his position. His weapons were spread like a fucking football team. "Go do me a favor and fuck off."

A fiery of flames had erupted from the pits of my insides.

I had enough.

I was absolutely, positively, indubitably, sick of his shit.

"You know what, Bill?" I glared at him. "Fuck you. You and your shitty attitude._ Fuck. You._"

His stoic expression changed, the beady taupe eyes had returned to face my green ones. I could feel the ground below me shaking, trembling, teetering. The decorations of the cottage had all shook and tumbled to the ground, but neither of us noticed.

"I've been trying to help you. For two _fucking_ days I've been trying to be nice to you for once. But you know what? You're fucking impossible." I spat. "What the hell is your goddamn problem? I get that you don't like me, I really do. Honestly, I couldn't give two shits, Bill. You don't _have_ to like me. All I'm asking is that you treat me and—if you'd like—everyone else in this town with some fucking decency."

The ground continued to shake, hitting a terrific 9.5 on the Richter scale. The cottage's walls had begun to crumble, we remained inside.

"But that's the problem with you, isn't it? You can't act decent around anyone. At all. You think it's smart trying to be this narcissistic asshat and relying only on yourself? Wake the hell up, Bill. 'Cause you're fucking mistaken."

"You think you're brave and strong when you try and hide your feelings from everyone else," I remembered Frank's note. Remembered how spiteful the letter was targeted at him, and how Bill used that hatred as his own armor. And then, as if untimely, I remembered Riley's words during our fight, before she abandoned me for more than a month.

Before she broke my wish.

I remembered how venomous her words had stabbed me, and recalled how I used her toxicity and turned it into my own bitterness. How I shrugged away anyone and everyone who tried to talk, how I put up those walls, how I acted so unfeeling, and how I became so spiteful at Riley when she returned.

Then, the impossible happened.  
I empathized with Bill.

I looked at him, straight into his taupe eyes that seemed to be on the verge of breaking.

"But you're wrong." I said, fists shaking.

"It makes you _weak_, Bill. It makes you a fucking _coward_. And that's what you are."

...

When the seconds had gone by, I was sure that Bill would have went straight up to me by now and slapped my face. But it never happened. He wasn't even glaring at me. Bill remained in his spot, he hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked. This was strange. Highly unfamiliar and weird. Did it work? Had he gotten to his senses? Did my words really knock some brain back into that head of—

"My town wasn't raided." Bill said, casually, as if whatever I'd just told him came out of his other ear. He ambled over to the counter where his machete laid horizontally. Paranoid thoughts had spurred my mind, thoughts regarding his machete protruding out of my abdomen. _Okay, totally not the time, Ellie._ I pushed away the morbid assumptions and quirked a brow.

"Yeah?" I replied back, unwavering despite the fact that Bill was wielding his machete now. "So why'd you leave?"

He was using this sort of sharpening stone, grinding against the blade with a sickly metallic screech.

_ K-shink, k-shink._

"Twenty-one years ago, Ellie, once upon a time, in a magical _fuck_tastic suburban home located in Port Clinton, I had a little niece. Daughter of my younger brother. She was this—this annoying, six-year-old piece of shit that tops _you_ off the charts of people that get on my nerves."

_K-shink, k-shink._

". . . but she'd have the bluest fucking pair of eyes I'd ever seen. And I'd always count all her twenty fucking freckles and her brown hair would always get in my face and it'd be the most irritating shit." He was chuckling lightly to himself, with his eyes still glued on sharpening the machete.

"So," he spoke up, "when the outbreak came on once upon a time and she and my brother were too fucking stubborn to leave Ohio, I headed to Kentucky alone. On the second year, I moved to Virginia, then Maryland. . ."

"Three years after the initial outbreak, in the Baltimore QZ, where I was holed up in, I met a guy who knew my brother. We talked, then the inevitable came and I asked him how my damn brother was doing. Fucker told me that he was gone. Gone! Killed by some damn bandits who raided their shitting settlement."

Bill, with his free arm, grabbed a bottle of scotch from the counter juxtaposed to his machete. He took a single swig, long and hard, before setting it back down again with a refreshing sound.

"Was enough to stir me, and I couldn't stand staying around anyone. So when the opportunity came in, I left Baltimore, right before the riots would've caused shit too, fortunately for me." He laughed and took another swig, clearly trying to down his brother-less feelings with alcohol. "Eventually I found this abandoned land in Lincoln, once upon a time, and the rest is fuckin' history."

_K-shink._

I was about to question the purpose of his mildly interesting origin story when he raised his head at me. "Oh, ah, still ain't done."

So he continued.  
"Some months after you and Joel left to God-knows-where, I'd been having a hard time setting up a more stable perimeter around the damn town. Every night, these fucking Clickers get stuck in the barbs of the barracks that it drives me crazy trying to get them off each morning—"

"Just give me the gist already, Bill."

"Well . . ." he said, raising his machete to eye-level and rotating it by the handle, "Brought my rifle out one night, went on the top of a truck's roof with four bottles of beer, and waited for those fuckers to pop out. Took two hours to find just one."

He returned to the sharpening._ K-shink, k-shink._

"I finished the whole pack of 'em, apparently, and while I had my head off I started to hear this little rustling"—he was whispering to sound more immersed—"by the bushes next to the damn barracks."

_K-shink, k-shink, k-shink._

...

"So, what happened?"

He drank a quarter before continuing.

"I shot 'em."

...

"And?"

The sharpening stopped.  
Everything stopped.

...

"And it wasn't a Clicker."

...

Oh.

My irate expression started to release tension, revealing an anxious, concerned one.

"Turns out, when I, ah, went in to examine . . . it was, it was a"—he swallowed something hard—"a woman. No fungi sproutin', no bloodshot eyes, no nothing. She was a brunette in her twenty-somethings . . . And—and you wouldn't believe how fucking blue her eyes were. Made me think how she resembled a fucking lot like . . . "

My eyes grew bulbous. Bill started to sharpen the machete again.

This time it was harder. Much, much harder.  
The sound scratched our ears mercilessly.

"I counted her freckles . . . twenty . . . all fucking _twenty_ of them. She even had the same blue eyes, same brown goddamned hair. I—I was just seeing things, right? Right? Just drunk?" He swiped the machete off the counter and into the ground, it clattered and echoed into eternity. "But no. It was her. I know it. I hadn't seen her in twenty-one years, and I killed her. I fucking killed my niece. My last goddamned family connection. I _killed_ her."

The room started to fall apart.  
Not even the clock dared to tick.

"Does . . ." I murmured, voice squeaking. "Does Joel . . ?"

He shook his head.  
"You're the only one."

...

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

_I'm the only one._

The air was too damp, too sunken, too _poisoned_ that it became physically impossible for my lungs to inhale the oxygen in. My palms had collected sweat, and my knees started to falter. My green eyes were racing, from Bill to the surroundings and then to everywhere all at once. Overwhelming. This was too overwhelming. From his constant drunkenness and apathetic, presumptuous demeanor, it came to me why he acted as such.

Lincoln wasn't overrun.

He abandoned it.  
He fucking abandoned his own safe haven. _Him_. Bill. The only person I knew in my life so far that would be perfectly content living in solitude and muttering mental notes to himself every ten minutes. He left his own comfort-zone, most probably unable to deal with the fact that he'd unknowingly murdered his niece in cold blood. Probably unable to move her corpse. Unable to wake up every morning with the thought in mind.

Unable to forgive himself.

I started to regret how directed my hatred was at him. How I thought that no other human being other than Bill could be such an asshole for the fun of it.

Had he forgiven himself?

The desire to keep drinking liquor, smoking and not taking care of himself for months, had determined a devastating no.

How could he, anyway?  
And how could _I_ have been such an asshole to him?

...

I needed to breathe.  
I needed to get out of here.

"I have to go." I said, rushed, anxious, and cold. I left the house without hearing his say, without him reacting appropriately to my abrupt leaving.

_I was the biggest asshole on Earth._

I dashed out of the shackle, with metallic balls chained to my ankles and slowing my every movement. Didn't look back, didn't even bother to see his face moments before my flee. For obvious reasons, I wanted to cry. For him, for his niece. The desire to shed tears had never been this intense for months; but I couldn't do it. I couldn't even tell him how I understood and related to his grieving, his pain.

_I was the biggest asshole on Earth._

As I ran away from it, from him, I hated myself even more. I knew I'd been overreacting, but the metal balls had grown to the height of the trees, and now I couldn't move. Trapped. Trapped in my own guilt.

_I was the biggest asshole on Earth._

And as I wallowed around, unable to cry, unable to do anything at all, the thought had kept repeating itself in my mind, the fact that I couldn't say those words to him._ Those words._ Those two, gigantic, rudimentary yet profoundly important words that I couldn't even have the heart to say to him.

...

_I'm sorry._

* * *

**Poor Bill :-(  
This is like, my longest chapter. Holy smokes.**

**Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to share these to any other of your TLoU fanatic friends so you can all cry and have feels together. Friendly criticism is welcome, and thanks so much for more than 300 reviews! Wow!**

_**Next Chapter should be published by Christmas. OR BY 2015  
I love you guys x**_

**-Taco**


	27. Estrangement

**A/N: I'm late, but happy New Year _aarrrgh_ it's 2015!**

**Thanks for all the feedback, by the way! You people rule xx**

* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-seven: Estrangement**

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**FLASHBACK**

There wasn't enough time.

She stood over the drawer in her room. It was this destitute wooden thing that had a malfunctioning digital clock on top that, for all she knew, had its batteries die years ago. The compartment of it was pulled open, revealing a crumpled poster that'd been painted black and dried.

It was folded over twice.

Riley steadied her breath, grabbing it with her clumsy hands.

There is a small fact. A fact that you should know about.  
It was a Firefly poster.

**x**

She remembered how she got it.

It was years before Ellie's arrival, during a grim night that sported no clouds. She remembered her nervous breath, hanging on the frigid air of a cold, cruel autumn. The day she stripped the black, faded poster from the walls was the same day she had lost both her parents, where the military had infiltrated Riley's boarded up apartment just minutes after she had killed her father.

The thought went through again and again, jabbing her in the side.

_She killed her father._

The thought would haunt her permanently. No amount of assuaging would make it go away.

It's not like she was given a choice. She _had_ no choice to begin with.

He was an Infected. His eyes that used to be warm and round had been drowned in bloodshot, his skin shrouded with valleys of minuscule fungal elements.

He was infected. He was infected and there wasn't anything she could have done to stop it.

Even when she awoke in her room to find the sounds of screaming, she couldn't stop it. Even if she tiptoed to the empty hallway with the screams that carried along with it, she couldn't stop it. Even when she peeked over and saw the ragged claws that somehow belonged to her father, and the way they were scratching and tearing and consuming any visible skin present in her _mother's_ appearance . . .

She couldn't stop it.

Her mother, whose brown eyes had been inherited by her daughter, who had always looked like one of those vintage women found plastered in kitchen stove advertisements, with her buttoned-up denim plaid, and her black hair tied up with the quaint style of a bun. It was the same style she had taught Riley when her hair started to grow longer beyond the shoulders. Perhaps, one would think, that in honor of her mother, Riley had kept that same style all throughout her years of life.

No one would ask, no one would ever _think_, that such a simple manner of tying up her hair could mean so much.

But let us not digress.  
Let us not digress from the repugnant truth that her mother had been killed by her very own father.

It is a fact. A fact that dragged her down so deep, that she could no longer see the light. A fact that weighed itself on her mind that for months after the incident, she would wake up screaming or crying. Or both. It was a fact that plagued her.

It wasn't just that. There was another unbearable truth.

It still haunted her mind, until now.

Riley had killed her father.

Her eleventh year in the world consisted of many memories. There was one in early January where she had gotten her baby tooth chipped by slipping on the pavement. There was another in late May where her father had brought home goods from the factory and celebrated by eating a bountiful dinner (they were smuggled, but Riley didn't know that).

And there was that moment in September, where she had been bereaved.  
When she had been given two titles that, in the world they lived in, was all too common.

_Orphan._  
_Murderer._

The titles came to her on a raining night of Thursday, within the hollow insides of an apartment, its windows covered with rickety wooden boards that prevented both sunlight and moonlight from seeping in. Riley's father had commented that he didn't want to draw much attention, her mother said it made them look like convicts. They had never bothered to take them off. Instead, they created light with candlesticks and conserved electricity.

The Abel family had contained a simple household.

Perhaps it was better, so to speak, to have kept the boards. That way, no one from the outside would have had to see an Infected clawing and murdering a woman in the living room. So that they wouldn't have had to see the look on a young child's face, a look that definitely did not belong in a face that seemed so undiluted. They would not have had to see the same child fumble for a gun and, with her shaking hands, shoot the same Infected with bullets that dug into its skin repetitively and repetitively as streams of tears flew down her face.

It was better to keep the boards, yes, but it hadn't stopped the people from the outside to listen as the mayhem unfolded itself.

And as it unfolded itself, there were layers.

The bellicose yells of a Runner, the painful shrieks of a woman, and the finale that seemed to hold everything together was the rapid gunfire from a pistol, the horrified screams and cries of a child were drowned under the shots like they were sinking.

They heard those layers. The military. Sure, they may not have seen the tableau, but there is this thing with humans that makes their brain concoct this great thing called, _imagination. _At times, it was better to leave things unthinkable than to allow oneself to speculate.

This was one of those times.

A soldier patrolling the block had been walking, his yawn cut off abruptly when a shrill exclaim had manumitted off of the Abel's apartment. Disturbingly, screams weren't much rare in those times, but the gunfire that followed suit was what made him beckon for his squad and move into the building.

The soldiers ran.  
They infiltrated the building.

For the next ten rushed minutes, the clump of five alarmed soldiers had begun ascending a flight of stairs, leading upwards to the location. Their stomping boots had created this—this beat of urban incursion and martial law.

They climbed, climbed, and climbed, until they arrived to the door that belonged to Natrick Abel. A factory worker.

What they saw first, when one of the soldiers had kicked the door open, was a fungi-covered doppelganger of the man, his body riddled with bloody holes, slumped against the table.

Their unnerved eyes reluctantly turned to the right.

The second was the gruel, torn corpse whose blood-coated face was similar to that of Natrick's wife, Gretchen. Her stomach had entrails poking out. A commodore resisted to gag.

The third was the couple's eleven-year-old daughter, whom one of the officers knew because of her wide grin and mischievous reputation.

Little Riley.

She had a pistol in her hands, hands that seemed so tiny, hands that shook because of the force that kicked her back every time she fired a bullet. They were hands that held a gun, a gun that was still firing at an already dead Runner. She was crying.

One of the soldiers scooped her up, letting the gun fall and clatter on the wooden floor like it was an atomic bomb.

The firing stopped.  
The cries did not.

"Jesus," one of them said. And _Jesus,_ was right. Because what do you say when you arrive at an apartment, which, by the way, was an apartment filled with something not worth describing? How could one ever react properly to a situation, given the circumstances, was highly extreme and nightmare-fueling? What could you say, after all, when witnessing a young girl shoot her infected father while crying like that?

In conclusion,_ Jesus, _was all anyone could really say.

She remembered the commodore who carried her, a man who had a whiskery chin, his assuaging hushes were attempting to fight over the adamant bellows she was giving out. "It's okay, it'll be all right." he had said. "You're safe now."

She didn't feel like it.

In fact, she wanted to punch that stupid, whiskery chin of his. Who was he to tell her assuaging lies? The nerve of him.

They had eventually calmed her down — which, come to think of it, did not really make sense as she had been sniffling and hiccuping and wiping her tears every three seconds the moment she had been set down by the officer who carried her. They were outside on the block. A team from wherever arrived with their dour blue hazmat suits. They had been sent out to bag the bodies and mark the building as condemned. One of the officials had scanned Riley; and, to her dismay, had ended with a result that read negative.

In all honesty, she wanted to be dead and with her parents rather than to be alive and without.

It did not help, not even a little bit, that it rained. Not this calm, sympathizing rain that would have soothed her shoulders and held up her frame slightly higher. This was rain that was unforgiving. Torrential. Rain that made you stay inside as large bodies of water showered down on you like it wanted to torment you. _Fish scales._ Riley thought. The shape of the hazardous raindrops reminded her of fish scales.

Out in the open, with a white tented roof above them that'd been held up by metal poles, stood Riley Abel and a group of officers. Their clothes were wet and dripping, Riley's autumn sweater had been the heaviest due to the rain.

It was like her heart.  
Heavy and dripping and wrenched.

One of them had a clipboard, and she was asked questions. It was about basic information, nothing too intrusive.

There were questions like her age. "Eleven."  
And her name. "Riley Abel."  
The school she studied in. "Brockton's Preparatory School."

Until there was one question that made her realize something.

"Do you know how your father got infected?"

...

_My father,_ Riley thought._ My dad._

And then the truth hit her again. It shattered her innocence entirely.

_I killed my dad. _

She didn't care how he became an Infected. She didn't care about the thundering rain that filled the insides of her shoes and drenched her socks. Didn't care if she had her voice creaking and broken like those of a floor's. Didn't care if her eyes were welled up with tears she was so sure she ran out of. She was too busy being fenced up with the fact that she was alone. That she lost both her parents. That she, with a lifetime's worth of remorse, had shot her father with all the bullets they had.

The title she was given that Thursday night hit her again.

_Murderer. _

Even if she knew that it wasn't the same man who had carried her to the imperfect bedroom of their apartment every night, or the one who made her sit on his shoulders that were as wide as the ocean, the one who had a laugh that made the entire world stop and listen, or even the one who would risk his life by smuggling out canned goods from the factory he worked in. That Runner was still his father.

And she killed him.

"No," she managed to choke out, her voice was muffled by orphaned tears. "I don't know."

By the time the officer with the clipboard had thanked her for her cooperation and expressed his condolences, she was already crying. Again. They were silent tears that dripped down her face like a leaking faucet. She did not bother to wipe them off, as if she wanted the whole world to know about her mourning. The soldiers, despite their reputation, wished they could have done something to soothe her. Riley could see it in their faces. They _knew_ what loss was like, they'd seen their loved ones dissipate, their friends in arms killed by fungus and 'Fly alike. The most any one of them had done was to speak to her in a more softer tone, or express that they too were sorry.

It irritated her.

She did not want to be reminded of her new life without her parents.  
She did not want to be reminded of her father ever again.  
She did not want to live any longer without them.

These people, they would call it survivor's guilt. And it was a feeling that made one somehow . . . ashamed. Sorry. It made Riley feel sorry. Despite of herself, she did not know what she could have been sorry for.

She might have been sorry her parents had died.  
She might have been sorry her parents had died, and she had lived.

It was gnawing at her, this survivor's guilt. And it continued to gnaw as they walked towards a parking lot, with the rain pouring down on them without sincerity. Riley's surroundings were far from vibrant. If anything, it looked like the buildings belonged in one of those black and white movies. The overabundance of rain did not help. It only admonished despair and emphasized her realization of being a foundling.

Minutes later, a group of three soldiers were ahead of her as they trudged through, Riley lagged behind. They had managed to wedge themselves into a tight alleyway, where the buildings' roofs had been protruding well enough to block out most of the heavy rainfall. Riley's weak footsteps were out of sync with the ever-commingled sound of the soldiers' stomping boots. She didn't understand why they were here, but had overheard one of them mention some sort of transport out of the city.

By now, the girl couldn't care less if she had to move out. She could have stayed anywhere else. Anywhere, absolutely any _goddamned_ place, but here in Brockton.

Slowly reaching the end of the passageway, they ambled ahead. Riley kept her head down, the collar of her jacket reached her ears. There was the taste of bleakness in her mouth, coalesced with the urban metal wafts of the city. She didn't notice that there was blood at certain parts of her trousers, didn't notice that there were puffy circles under her eyes from crying, didn't notice that her hands were still numb and shaking from the firing.

What she did notice, though, was that when she involuntarily looked up, Riley spotted something on the left wall of the alleyway.

She stopped walking. Curiosity sparked within her.

Before executing the next probable action, she glanced at the soldiers. If she was going to do whatever the hell she had been planning, she had to act fast before she'd draw attention to herself.

She steadied her grieving breaths, squinting her puffy eyes at the object on the wall.

The particular _something_ that'd been plastered was rectangular, portrait position. It was painted black all over, leaving a strange, T-shaped symbol straight at the middle of the poster. The symbol was painted white, with a gleam at the center of it. Riley's eyebrows knitted together. _It looks like a dragonfly,_ she thought. There were words found at the top of the unusual insignia that she could make out, one by one:

_When you're lost in the darkness . . ._

She glanced down to the lower part of the poster, where the words had continued from where they ended.

_. . . Look for the light._

Look for the light?

Curiosity's embers flared up inside of her.  
The T-shaped symbol seemed to be poking its nose out. Taunting her.

Riley advanced forward. Her moment was there.

There wasn't enough time to think, the three men were far off and she couldn't stall much longer. Riley's fingers latched onto the paper's top, she retracted her arm in a quick swipe, and with it came the parchment. Her lips were dried and the grieving breath in her throat was half frozen. She could only scrutinize the paper for five seconds before folding it carefully and placing it inside of her watered sweater and beneath her undershirt which was still somewhat dry. Time contracted itself, her pulse was deafening.

_ Hurry._ she told herself, stuffing the poster in. _C'mon—_

A voice from ahead made her spine stand upright.

"Hey, kid!"

Her dried lips cracked.  
The half frozen air in her lungs ossified into a chunky block of ice.

It was one of the commodores. Whiskery-chin man.

She didn't know what to expect. For one thing, Riley'd assumed that he saw her do the deed, and thus was too terrified to look at the soldier's direction. She wanted to grab the paper from the inside compartments of her clothing and paste it back on the wall. She was unable. The only option was to face him.

"You all right over there?" he asked, his basso bouncing off the walls. The two soldiers that stood on either of his sides were holding their guns, neutral faces. Faces that didn't seem to sense that she'd stripped a poster off a wall.

How the stress rose from her shoulders!

"Yeah," she called out.

"Well, come on." He beckoned for her, softly. "We're almost there."

There was this giddy excitement when it came to stripping papers off the walls. She muffled a smirk of pride for herself as they walked along. How her heart pounded with adrenaline, how relieving it was to feel the act of being not caught . . . it was thrill-seeking. Her vanishing youth seemed to have been reviving itself.

And as they continued to walk, the paper that'd been wedged between her torso and undershirt felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Riley's desire for it burned. She felt like an amateur thief!

The words captured her again, in her mind this time.

_When you're lost in the darkness, look for the light._

...

The young girl was escorted by soldiers into a military truck. The rain pelted at the car's windows and her sullen brown eyes were watching them from the inside. _Torrential fish scales._ she thought. The color of it, if rain even had a color, reminded her of quicksilver.

They offered for her to ride shotgun. Whiskery-chin man was driving.

She'd never been in a military truck before.

It seemed to aggravate her paranoia. Because every minute in that truck, she found herself glancing to the left to find the man with his eyes glued to the watery horizon. Occasional bumps in the road encouraged her stomach to lurch around. Riley kept her gaze at her feet, the paper inside of the shirt she wore scratched and tickled her skin. There was paranoia cursing through her veins, and she began to worry.

_What if he would find out? What if he knows that I have it? What if—_

The truck screeched to a halt, Riley awoke from her disturbed sleep. Her eyes were alarmed and groggy simultaneously.

(She hadn't realized it, but aside from the paranoia, she dreamt of her mother and father. They were standing side by side, their arms reaching out to her. Riley would have entered their grasps, only if she hadn't been awoken).

Her eyes adjusted to the view in front of them. Buildings she weren't familiar with were surrounding the truck all over, arrays of street lights lighted the dim path. It was still raining, but it had been softer. Calmer. Her tensed shoulders eased. The soldier with the whiskery chin placed an assuring hand on her shoulder, Riley looked at him.

"Welcome to Boston." he said, offering a weak smile. "Under the circumstances, we've figured you're staying here for the meantime."

More specifically, she'd stay there for five years.  
Soon enough, when the time would ripen and bear fruit, her opportunity would arrive at her doorstep.

And oh, how it would arrive.

...

...

The death of her parents gave birth to a new life. A life that consisted of living in a new school, in a new city, and in an undiscovered world. Only later, in three months, would she steal the second poster. It was black and similar to the first one, there was a word plastered above it in scraggly print.

_Fireflies._

She had stolen it from Corporal Evans' office, it was wedged between folders that had the word _confidential_ stamped with bright red. The thrill of thieving came to her again, and she had grabbed it.

Riley, in her Boston dorm _— _with Liz and her foul odor dozing off in the bed on top of her, was reviewing the parchments. The first one was in her left hand, the second in her other.

Her eyes narrowed. The words enlarged themselves.

She compared them. Examined them. Viewed, studied, whatever. And then the letters seemed to form a tangible shape in front of her.

_Fireflies._  
_When you're lost in the darkness, look for the light._

They wrapped around her head like an epiphany.

It was the beginning sparks of the fire that would burn inside of her, it was a desire that would have quenched her soul if satisfied. In her later years, she would see them up close, fighting against the military in a gunfight. She hadn't noticed that she was cheering for the men draped in yellow, and when she had, she knew. It was the Fireflies. They were called the Fireflies, and she'd join them. She knew it. It would be the rope that would get her out of the hole of darkness she'd been dwelling in for years. A plan had seeded itself in her brain, a plan that would inevitably make her choose between two factors that were most valuable to her five years into the future.

Ellie.  
The Fireflies.  
It was an ultimatum. She'd have to leave one of them behind.

The words wrapped around her head once more.

...

_Look for the light._

_..._

She had to.

**x**

She was back to standing in her room, in Boston, before a drawer; her hands holding the same black poster with the insignia.

It was the propaganda that lured her in. That made her want to believe so hard in the Fireflies because she'd been living in that pit of darkness ever since her parents had died. _Look for the light,_ it said. How could she turn away that chance? Considering how oppressive the military appeared to her at that moment, and how easy Riley related to the militia group, it would have been only a matter of time before she'd be joining them.

A matter of time. And that time was getting shorter.

Because Riley would turn sixteen in nine days.

Perhaps that in another world, she would be excited. Any adolescent her age would have been giddy over the fact that they would soon reach that feat._ The Sweet Sixteen._ She could imagine it, actually. She'd receive warm greetings, how-do-you-dos and an ocean of gifts as deep and wide as she could make up. She would never feel unsatisfied, she would never feel ungrateful, and never, in that world, would she have to worry about her own safety.

Unfortunately, it wasn't her world.  
Not anymore.

The clock above her was ticking exhaustively. Time was passing.

Her birthday would arrive soon, and she didn't feel excited about it. Not even a little bit.

What was different when it came to sixteenth birthdays twenty years in the grim future, was that the lucky individual would be gifted with a gun on their hands. They would receive a slap of authority at their backs, later to be clothed with military uniforms and called as young, dashing soldiers under the wings of mother America. Being supervised and controlled by the Federal Disaster Response Agency didn't make her any more excited. Riley, who'd soon become a paratrooper, would be awarded with this fate. She'd even have her own tag, for God's sake. A flimsy, tin rectangular thing that had her name imprinted on it. Private Abel.

It didn't have a ring to it. Not at all.

In fact, she wanted to throw the tag on the ground, stomping on it arduously and repetitively until it hurt. She wanted to shout in frustration, wanted to have any other future other than serving the country under those damn military officials. Choosing the other route didn't seem plausible either. If you weren't looking forward to becoming a soldier for the FEDRA, you'd try your scarce luck at working at the factories or watch duties.

One of the odd jobs were scrapping the lowly Infected corpses outside the walls to pile them up and burn them. Wasn't worth it, too many folks had to be put down because they weren't careful enough to work outside. The maximum salary for each duty would have been up to two or three ration cards. Barely enough. Riley'd seen those people, out on the streets, forcing themselves to participate in the black market. Forcing themselves to do things that made one question their humanity . . . she couldn't be like that. She couldn't choose either futures.

She wanted to run away. Join the Fireflies, like she always wanted.

It was a choice that'd always been there, it lingered on Riley's shoulder, not occupying her mind entirely but still bearing presence. As she grew older, the choice transferred from one place to another. From her shoulders to her ears, and from her ears to her mind. Now, she woke up thinking about the Fireflies. She trained those military drills thinking about the Fireflies. She slept thinking about the Fireflies. Everything she had done the past days, she had done them while thinking about the damn Fireflies.

Do you want to know a small little fact?

Well, for one, it wasn't only the Fireflies that'd plagued her.

There was also Ellie.

_Ellie._ And then Riley's head would swivel around and around and around so much that she couldn't keep her thoughts together any longer. They would be scattered all over the floor, with the Fireflies sprawled on one side, and Ellie on the other. That was how much of a whirlpool she was. Ellie, with her glowing green eyes and explosive attitude. Ellie, with her absolutely annoying personality that Riley couldn't seem to get tired of. Ellie, who would punch you in the shoulder without remorse if you commented about her height that never appeared to grow. Ellie, Ellie,_ Ellie._

Riley was suffering from both those aspects. And she would have to choose between them.

It was cruel.

In nine days, she wouldn't see her. In nine days, Riley would be out in the soldiers' barracks or hiding in an unknown Firefly base. Either way, she couldn't see her. And it probably wouldn't be for another two years, until Ellie would turn sixteen herself. But hell, who's to say Riley would live that long under the military? Or the Fireflies?

Nowadays, she would seldom talk.

Ellie worried about her. In the later months of their friendship, she realized how quiet Riley had been, only talking whenever Ellie would start a conversation and replying with either a short, dull laugh or nodding. Sometimes, Riley wouldn't reply or register with anything. It felt like the younger girl was talking to a wall.

It frustrated her, more than anything.

For one reason, Ellie knew very well what would happen once Riley's birthday had passed. She'd have her dorm cleaned out, she'd have all her boxes filled with memories and memories and memories that reminded Riley of her parents and friends and green-eyed redheaded girls that it hurt whenever she looked at her own belongings. She would move out, and she'd be gone.

Secondly, they were wasting time.

Precious, ever-diminishing time. Because Ellie would have to remain in the school for two more years, while her best friend would be gone.

She would be leaving her.

Ellie remembered a memory with the girl, as they sat together on the precipice of a building, watching a shooting star. She recalled the wish.

She recalled her exact words, swimming around in her mind as she wished upon a falling meteor:

_I hope she never leaves._

And then the bitterness started to form in her mouth, making her conclude that wishes were valueless. Because what the hell had she been thinking? Wishing on something as stupid as that? Her bitter anger flared. It was stupid. They were _stupid_ and were meant for _stupid_ people in making them think that _stupid_ wishes would come true. It was unfair and redundant and fucking frustrating.

It made Ellie's chest wrench inside out.

The first day came by softly. Like a passing wind. The second one was the same. Ellie would nevertheless stick by Riley's side despite the changes. Changes meaning that they had stopped visiting the mall. Had stopped trying to retrieve their water guns back. Had stopped joking around. Had stopped everything that seemed to make their friendship glow. Slowly, they started to fade out. And it hurt. It felt like she was losing Riley and couldn't get her back. It felt like she was losing something she hadn't even lost yet.

She hated it, being this helpless.

For the fifth day, neither of the two girls had done much. Ellie remained lingering in Riley's room, sitting on her bed and watching as the older girl was preparing her things. The redhead scowled slightly, Riley's back facing her.

"You don't have to pack this early." Ellie said, breaking the silence that'd erupted ever since she entered her room.

"I know."  
"So why're you doing it now?"

Riley paused her packing for a brief moment, returning before the air would turn stale.

"Because," she replied.

"Because what?"

But Riley never answered her.

_Because,_ she would have wanted to say,_ I can't do this anymore._

She couldn't do it. At all. She couldn't handle both her and the Fireflies simultaneously. She couldn't think straight, couldn't even handle the crushing amount of weight of having to leave Ellie behind for the Fireflies._ Jesus. _She didn't even know, for God's sake, that she was planning to leave the next morning. The sadness that coursed through her veins almost made her choke. She'd been trying to suppress the feelings and emotions too hard that she'd forgotten to savor the last moments she had with Ellie. To actually talk to her for once, or to head out to the mall one final time before leaving. She couldn't do any of that, and probably never would. Jesus. Fuck.

She would never see Ellie and it irritated her at how cruel it seemed. Frustration piled up within her like the clothes piling up within her backpack that she was packing. Ellie's eyes grew concerned, but Riley hadn't payed attention to it. She didn't even look at her, for fuck's sake.

"Riley," her voice was solid and soft, "talk to me."

She didn't hear her. Or, she didn't want to, anyway. With harder force, she shoved more belongings in her backpack, her eyebrows furrowed together and ears not wanting to listen. She was afraid she'd break down, afraid that she'd admit something she didn't want to admit. Afraid that she'd have to look at Ellie's green eyes and never see them the following day. She stuffed the two black posters of the Fireflies into her bag.

"Okay, seriously," Ellie stood up from the bed, "Riley. All this time I've been . . . I've been _trying_ to talk to you for once and it seems like you're never there and . . ."

Ellie continued off, Riley couldn't seem to listen. It felt like she was digging out the truth. She was too afraid to look at her, to speak to her, to confront her about the soon leaving. Riley continued to stuff everything in her bag without thought, doing it for the sole purpose to muffle her goddamned words. Nevertheless, they pressed on. "Are you even listening to me? Riley. Come on, you can't block me out." But oh, she most certainly could, and she did it more and more, ignoring the redhead's existence as she paced the room to sort things out. "What the hell's gotten into you?" She raised her voice, almost badgering her. "Hey."

Sets of images flashed before her mind, she saw herself jumping across rooftops with her, saw herself watching Ellie as she rode Princess from afar. She saw herself and Ellie watching a shooting star. She saw herself splashing the redhead with a loaded water gun, watched as they created tomfoolery at the mall, watched as they sat telling jokes together on the bunk bed, watched as she recalled Ellie in her drunken state, watched as she felt her hands holding on to her wrists, watched as she listened so conscientiously, with Ellie whispering the words that had permanently remained in her mind.

_How do you make me feel so special?_

Because of those words, Riley hated her.  
She hated Ellie for making her _feel_ that way for her.

_How could _you _make it so hard to choose?_

"Riley!" She touched her shoulder.

"I'm sick of it!" The barrier broke. She whirled her back, facing Ellie as her hand retracted itself in surprise. "You wanna know what bothers me? You. Fucking _you_. That you're always _fucking_ tagging along with me, that you're always bugging me off with those _bitching_ questions—"

The younger girl stumbled back, the back of her calves had hit the bed's frame. Abel's brown eyes seemed to create a supernova of ambivalence, it shocked her. An earthquake of unexpected emotions.

"What . . ." she sputtered, her green eyes shaking.

"It gets goddamn tiring, okay, Ellie? I'm sick of it!" Her words were poisonous and stoning, pricking at the girl's skin like unwanted thorns. "For Christ's sake, leave me the hell alone. You annoying fuck, can't you give me time to myself?"

Ellie still couldn't react properly. The words, oh, the words, they were starting to get to her. The poison bounced off and hit the two of them repetitively like rubber balls. Back and forth, back and forth.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about? I've been trying to—"

"—you've been trying to be a _fucking_ snoop, that's what. And it gets tiring, Ellie. You trying to_—_trying to dig inside me and finding _every_ _single goddamn_ _thing_ about me!"

"I was just concerned, I didn't mean—"

"—it's not your _shitting_ responsibility to care, Ellie. You're not going to be concerned about me and I won't _ever_ let you—"  
"—I'm your goddamn friend, I'm _obliged_ to—"

Something cracked within Riley Abel's walls.

"_FUCK OFF!_"

The words rang in both their heads, like the aftermath of a bomb explosion, not wanting to leave their ear cavities. The framed objects fell from the walls, the floor started to rumble, and their souls started to wither away. The memories both Ellie and Riley had crafted gradually degraded, similar to sweeping ashes.

There was a silence. And Riley continued.

"Just . . . just get your own _goddamn_ _life_, Ellie!" Her eyes were burning. "Quit interfering with mine and_ fuck off!_"

The younger girl'd never witnessed such fury, the presence of something that was wild and relentless. Riley's figure stood before her, she was ablaze, burning as fiercely like her words that'd buried themselves beneath Ellie's skin. _Her unbridled words_, the words that had assaulted her and left open wounds to bleed. Riley had bruised her all over. Blue, swollen splotches left by the impact of her malice. Her soul felt battered, her green eyes no longer glowed, and Riley's entire behavior shifted when she realized how much she'd hit her with cataclysmic force.

Fuck.

The fire started to die within her, her lips parted in an attempt to take everything back. But she knew it was too late, she knew that she wouldn't forgive her. She knew that the words she'd attacked Ellie with would remain in her head for a period of forty-six days and more. It was too late. She ruptured everything. She ruined it all.

Fuck.

With thundering silence, Riley left the room.

...

The following day arrived, and she didn't come back.

She was missing.

...

She had left her.  
She had left Ellie behind.

* * *

**-JOEL-  
9:02 PM**

He saw her climb up the stairs.

And it had probably been the most long-winded, reluctant-filled climb that he'd seen her do in a while. Bill had stained her thoughts. You could see it as she trundled, for there would occasionally be this leaking trail of sad, repressing penitence dripping behind her that was more contagious than the Infection itself.

Later, Ellie opened the door of her abode and crawled back upstairs to her own room, he had noticed the trail of remorse she had left behind. They were like small rain puddles, littering across the floor and soiling his shoes.

So, as you might expect, he went up to investigate.

As he ascended to the second floor, he stood in the midsection of the staircase, a foot weighing itself on the tread. He paused, scowled, and continued his climb.

Perhaps there was this thing that all fathers had in them, this familiar _sixth sense_ that allowed them to deem whether or not something had gone wrong. May it be pausing on the middle of the staircase and frowning, they had their own way of sensing what was up.

And when he welcomed himself inside of the room to find the young girl face down on the mattress, he _knew_ something was different.

He sat softly on the bedside, where Ellie rolled over so that she'd have her head face up and lying adjacent to him. Joel found himself staring down at her weary green eyes, secrets whispered by Bill hidden beneath them.

"Did you have dinner yet?" he asked. It was under the warm, sullen evening, his hands were connected and resting on his lap, anticipating.

Ellie shook her head. Her gaze returned to the bedding.  
For a while, there was an exhausted quietness.

"Is it about Bill?"

Right there. Sixth sense. See? It would never fail.

Her eyes trailed up to find his hazel ones, and she spoke for the first time in what seemed like hours.

"Joel . . . " she murmured, " . . . I'm a horrible person."

They hadn't eaten in a while, and Ellie's stomach started to growl in defiance of her efforts to muffle it. She brushed her pleading stomach once, looking back up at her paternal figure.

"We should eat soon." she said.  
"You ain't a horrible person." he replied, stroking her auburn hair with a thumb.

They held that position for a while, with Ellie silently mesmerized at the foreign action. His fingers were combing her hair in a way that fathers would always do. His touch that'd always seemed to be cold was soft and feathery, his fingers never felt like this. His fingers, of course, which he had used a million times for executing actions he was never proud of. His fingers which he'd used to torture, his fingers he had used to maim, to kill. His fingers which he had used to drive that scalpel into the doctor's neck at Salt Lake—

He stopped brushing her hair. Ellie's eyes looked back up at him.

"Why not?" she asked.

_Why not?_ Joel thought. Should a reason be needed?

"Well," he said, straightening his back, "for one reason, no horrible person tells bad jokes like you do." and he ruffled her hair, making her protest in defiance with a childish hand brushing him off. They laughed softly in unison. A laugh that seemed to be filled with all those . . . those nice, pleasant feelings that were rarely felt in the world they lived in. They were considered blessings.

There was another hiatus, with Joel's chuckles eventually fading off as his eyes focused on the window to his left.

She wasn't a horrible person. She was so far from that. If anything, he considered himself as one.

Because no horrible person would do things so uncompromising. No horrible person would make his own brother fervently hate him for the things he'd forced them to do for the sake of survival. No horrible person would do things that would permanently damage their human morality. No horrible person would run around murderously in the halls and areas of a hospital in Salt Lake. No horrible person would have the guts to kill those doctors and nurses mercilessly. No horrible person would even dare to rebuff the pleas of a woman, who was bleeding and on the ground. No horrible person would be so selfish, that he'd be willing to screw the world once over and twice if it meant giving up the only person that mattered to him.

Lastly, almost indubitably, no horrible person would create a lie.  
A lie so harmful, that it almost ruptured him and that person's intimacy and trust.

When turning to his right, he found Ellie as she sat up straight on the mattress, her hair swept across her forehead. She was sitting cross-legged. Joel pursed his lips.

He wondered what had been on her mind that had made her act like she was, because just earlier that morning, she was faring well. Ellie, on the other hand, wondered whether or not to reveal the secret. It was debatable. Very debatable. She felt special, in a way, when realizing that she'd been the only one Bill had confessed it to. It was something that felt too sacred to have had itself stuck with her. It felt strange. She thought she didn't deserve to contain such hidden truths. There were enough of them already.

Maybe she could just tell Joel. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Maybe Bill wouldn't mind.

"Joel," She paused, and she licked her bottom lip. Her lips were parted. She paused and attempted to speak and paused and repeated the process.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't seem to look in his eyes.

Then she was debating again. Her head rushing and deciding, deciding, deciding. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe not yet. Not even if it'd been Joel or Riley or anyone other than Bill.

Her stomach lurched, she swallowed a mammoth lump in her throat.

...

"Can we have some dinner?"

The look on his face seemed to express marginal disappointment. It faded as quickly as it came. His fingers were softly ruffling her hair again, and he smiled.

"Sure. Let's go 'n scrounge up some food, all right?"

She smiled back.

"Yeah," she said, "all right."

* * *

**-ELLIE-**

Weeks had passed.

I kind of got busy with things.

Things like having those swimming lessons at the pond. (Sometimes with Joel, sometimes without).

Like hunting for pheasants and other critters with Leon and Riley.  
Like my connections with Bill becoming increasingly friendly by the day.  
Like Riley and I picking up where we left off.

Those things.  
Yeah.

And for a while, things were going pretty great.

...

Until.

...

Well, until there was a breakage.

A nightmare.

And I hadn't had a single nightmare in weeks.

I could go into detail about it. I could tell you every single thing I felt at that moment and I wouldn't be able to stop the gushing of words out of my mouth. But there's a hesitance. Some nightmares aren't worth to be re-imagined, some nightmares deserve to stay rotten in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, never to be awaken. For your sake, I can give you bits and pieces, maybe more, but that's all I can bargain for.

The nightmare, if I can recall bits of it, consisted of three things.

The hospital.  
The Fireflies.  
Joel.

This nightmare, this _goddamned_ nightmare was like a real life simulator. Because pretty much everything around me at that time felt tangible that it almost looked lucid. Almost. Just almost. But I saw myself, and I was being dragged away by _him_, his hand crushing my own. The thing we were running in was apparently a hallway, with its dead fluorescent lights and its high-as-fuck ceiling; I could only assume it was a hospital.

A hospital!

I tried to look down, the garments I had been wearing was a _surgery gown._

_Boom. _Bingo. Hammer on the nail.

An exit door stood several feet ahead of us. Joel was yelling something. But, of course, like how a dream would, I absolutely had no clue whatsoever on what he was saying. There were Fireflies on our tail. Yellow-clad troopers, their guns and flashlights were lighting the dim, wide foyer.

Somehow, I knew that they wanted me.

And they were yelling things, things that I could actually hear.

_She's the cure._  
_Just give us the girl._  
_You don't want to do this._

And Joel kept firing at them. One by one, bullet by bullet, they fell down. And I kept looking back at them, helpless, watching as their already few numbers diminished. I begged him to stop, but he hadn't listened. He continued the firing, and _I_ was forced to run with him. Like fugitive convicts, we kept going.

And going,  
and going.

Until the exit reached our sights well enough to make Joel stop in his tracks, making me follow suit.

But there was a figure standing in front of the exit door. Blocking our supposed escape.  
Their was a gun in their hands, and it was pointed at Joel.

I could see them well enough, it had been one of the Fireflies.

_Marlene._

And then I'll tell you now, that I would have wanted to embrace her. Maybe it was because I hadn't seen her in God knows how long. Maybe it was because the last time we had talked to each other, she was on the verge of passing out. Maybe because she was one of those people that I cared for, even if there was that constant spitefulness I had for her. I would have told her about our journey across the country, about my confusion of wearing this flimsy little gown in a humongous hospital, and about how deranged Joel was that he'd been shooting all of her men from behind us. I would've told her any of that, if it weren't for Joel shooting her too.

The bullet entered her abdomen, and two screams intervened.

One was Marlene's.  
The other was mine.

And then I removed my grip on Joel's hand, the horror and betrayal plastered on my face. Marlene's knees met the ground, and she laid herself there, writhing in agony.

Joel advanced forward, I tried to pull him back.  
Key word: _Tried._

"STOP!" I yelled, but it was only for the deaf to hear. Marlene's dark brown eyes moved up to view me, and they were fading out. The eyes that reminded me so much of Riley's, the eyes that always had that sort of firmness in them. They were dying.

_She_ was dying. And Joel was going to kill her.

There were prints on the ground, the color of blood, a shade of crimson was circling her as the gunshot wound bled and bled.

Joel approached and towered over her, a pistol in his hands. Marlene ignored him.  
Instead, her eyes were focused only on me.

"Ellie . . ." She choked on her words. Her hand was outstretched towards me, the pain, the anger, the hopelessness taped to her face. It looked surreal.

...

And then she spoke, her voice had crumbled and decimated.

"He lied." The words echoed around me. "About everything."

_He lied._

Joel kicked her—hard, savagely—on the side, making her roll over to have her face meet the ceiling. "Enough, out of you."

A fugitive groan of pain fled her hoarse mouth before a bullet pierced through her forehead.

And I woke up screaming.

Now, this brings me to what was at hand. Me waking up from the nightmare. Yeah. Me waking up from the nightmare, and frantically pulling the draped sheets off of me as if they'd been on fire. The room was dark, imprinted images of Marlene's body flashed in every place I had set my eyes on. It felt inescapable. The breathing pattern I was making felt haggard, worn out and stretched like a crinkled sheet.

I panicked.  
Because who wouldn't have?

The door had flown open, a figure painted itself in the tableau of my bedroom.

"Hey, hey, hey—" They ran to the side of the bed, flicking open a switch of the small lamp sitting on the drawer beside me.

Joel.

I should have been relieved to see him. Should have released the tension as soon as I saw his worried face. But I didn't. The nightmare that came to me wasn't the same nightmare that had haunted me from last winter. It wasn't the kind that inhered a cannibalistic man; a man who made me destroy my own desire to live in a world of innocence. This was different, because this was a nightmare regarding Salt Lake. Regarding Joel. Regarding his selfish wants, his lie. His _goddamned_ lie.

Maybe his lie did matter.  
Maybe he hadn't changed after all.

"Relax, it's me." I didn't notice that I'd been pushing him away every time he would try and hold me close, like how he always would back in winter when I had those dreams with David. His knees were touching the wooden floor, his body just adjacent to the bed. "Ellie, hey—"

"Stop." I said, voice likely to crack. I pushed away his arms that were restricting me from my panicky movement.

His hazel eyes mirrored confusion, maybe a slight bit of hurt.

"What?"

I steadied myself.

"Stop, please. I'm fine. Just—just leave me alone, okay?"

There was a hesitant pause.

Joel uncoiled his kneeling frame and removed his arms, sighing. "Okay."

I had to move, shake the nightmare off of me.

...

First, it was my legs.

And I brought them up to my chest as my back straightened itself, making it lean on the bed's headboard to relax. My arms acted as a securer for my legs, and slowly, I released a breath. Out went its shakiness, out went its panic, out went its distress. Only the nightmare remained.

Joel continued to bear his concerned and injured look.

"Bad dream?" he queried. He knelt down again, a finger brushing away some of the wandering hair strands that managed to cover my face. I didn't flinch by the contact, but it irritated me. Like, seriously fucking irritated me. I pushed his hand away, giving him a glare that probably said, _I'm not your little girl, so don't treat me like I am._

I swear, if I could take back all that spitefulness, I would. The look on his face exhibited wounds. Wounds from my own actions.

"Yeah," I replied, sounding somehow colder. "You don't need to worry about me, Joel, I'm fine. Really."

I wasn't. I really wasn't.

And then he was just looking at me, a face that had the mixed expressions of whatever. I would have apologized to him for shrugging him off like that, but the need to act benevolent wasn't really what I felt at the time.

He looked down on the ground, before glancing back up and giving a churlish nod. _Jesus._

"Okay," His lips were forming a straight line, they were too leveled. Only now had I noticed the tiredness in his eyes, and in his voice. "Well, just call me if y'need me. You know that I'm, uh, that I'm always in the other room."

He stood up, with his shadow towering over my bed that'd been caused by the moonlight leaking in from the window to my left. Marlene's imagined words hissed in my ears again, and I looked at the dispirited man before his hand met the doorknob.

"Hey, Joel?"

He turned around, almost too willingly. "Yeah, kiddo?"

...

"Was . . . was Marlene there?" I asked, huddled in the bed. The question both stunning him and me. "At the hospital, did you see her?"

My chest weighed a hundred pounds, my heart was tolling in my ears.

And then I saw it again.  
The hesitation.

* * *

**-JOEL-**

His skeleton was frozen inside of him. His hazel eyes were in the process of shaking.

Before he knew it, he was back at St. Mary's. Back at that dreaded hospital, back in that God-awful parking lot. Ellie was in his arms, limp and hanging and fragile as the heart that buried itself within his chest. He could remember Marlene standing there, and he could have pointed her positions in that parking lot with exact precision.

Positions like where she had stood—  
Where she had fallen.  
And where she had died.

He could remember the gun that aimed for his head, the words that rang through the brittle air of that night.

_You can't save her._

But he could save her. He knew he could. Even if it meant giving up his own life, even if it meant going through that damn rebar a second time. Even if it meant slaughtering all those Fireflies and doctors. If it meant killing Marlene. He could get her out of this. Whatever _this_ was, he was going to save her, he was determined to do that.

And then he could remember Marlene's broken figure. With a hole in her stomach, with her body trembling and convulsing on the ground, with her hand reaching out and her voice shakily pleading.

_Let me go. Please. _

He could remember the look of desperation, it was plentiful and had been plastered on her face so hopelessly that all he wanted to do was to kneel down and whisper "I'm sorry." to her frantic ears.

Because he didn't want to kill her,  
because he didn't want her blood on his hands.

But she was a threat to Ellie's safety.

And she, like all the others that fell before her, would just come after her.

He felt like it was decades ago, and it horrified him that it had only been around two months.

Two months of having to live with the immeasurable amount of remorse.

Two months of having to live with his conscience rebuking him of his selfish ways.

Two months of having to live with the _goddamned_ lie that he made because he thought it'd be best for her safety.

He could only scoff at himself, because he realized that she'd never be safe. No matter how many times he'd assure her—or himself—of it, no one would ever be safe. Not in the world they lived in.

Not anymore.

So he stood there before the door, before the ever-anxiously-awaiting Ellie with her bag of questions. He knew that he hesitated for far too long, that there wasn't any other runaround, that there was no excuse to withhold himself of the guilt that kept coming for him. He looked at her with those hazel eyes, and for a moment, he could taste the truth about to leak out of his mouth, ready to reveal itself to the girl.

He couldn't let her know. Not yet.

"No," he answered back, voice firm. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, she wasn't there. Ain't seen her since Boston."

And that was when he could see the betrayal burning behind her green, soulful eyes. A look similar to the first lie he had given her. It impaled him, and it was more painful than what the rebar could have ever dealt to his body.

_Please,_ Joel pleaded within himself._ Forgive me._

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
**

"Oh . . ."

Marlene's ghostly words appeared in front of me.

_He lied. About everything._

Something caught itself in my throat, my eyes were burning.

"Okay then."

He nodded, looking at me and then clearing his throat like there was something lodged between it.

I couldn't tell you how much it hurt.  
How the second lie slapped me backhanded with grueling force, that no matter how hard I tried to repair our broken relationship, it would damage itself even more, up to the point that it didn't even seem worth putting back together.

It hurt.

Even if it appeared like it was no big deal and that people lied all the time and that I was just overreacting and that _it __didn't even matter_.

Well it fucking mattered, Joel, and it hurt.

Because he had lied to me.

Again.

Like the first one wasn't bad enough.

"See you in the mornin' then?" queried Joel, he wasn't looking at me. Neither of us weren't looking at each other.

The water stung my eyes, I repressed the urge for it to leak out.  
There was no reason to cry. No reason to cry over him. Wasn't worth it.

"Yeah, okay. See you in the morning."

"All right," he said, the pause between those words and the next were uncanny, "goodnight, kiddo."

Door open, door shut.

Alone once more.

The light of the lamp had been turned off. Staring into the darkness, there were words. There were also trusts, lies, and worries swimming around in my head. Taunting me. Tormenting me.

I ignored them.  
But I couldn't sleep.

When the day broke the sky and I eventually had to get down for breakfast, I knew that he couldn't either. Because we were eating in silence. With deepened, darkened circles under both our pairs of eyes.

There were thousands of miles between us, as we sat inches apart.

* * *

**THE FOLLOWING DAY**

She was rubbing small circles around my left arm. Softly.

"Hey," she whispered, "scarface."

Scarface.

It was the nicknames she had given me back at the school, when one of our favorite hobbies for passing time was to direct immature, degrading insults at each other. Scarface, because of my infamous mark found on my right eyebrow, was one of the many varieties of names. It stuck to us, all this time. It was sweet, in one of those childish ways, and amusing.

This time though, I couldn't be able to direct back an insult. My mind was occupied with, erm, things.

_Things._  
Yeah.

Riley, who was beside me, kicked a pebble with her foot. Right. We were outside, I forgot again, sorry about that. To shed further light on the previous events, the day was clear and soothing enough to allow Riley and I to venture out to a safe, examined part of the Wyoming woods. Away from Infected and bandits and furious mother bears. Joel'd permitted me because of his stupid monologue and that _it_ _didn't even matter._

Leon, as always, was out doing scout training. Riley had just decided to skip it for the day, not wanting to go through another one of Yusuf's admonishments. Upon entering the forest, she led the way, and we eventually ended up sitting on a pile of smooth stone, right before the pond that I regularly swam in.

It was beautiful, to say the least.

But no amount of tranquility was going to shake me out of it. Whatever _it_ was. Because yesterday had still stained my thoughts.

_He lied_, I kept hearing Marlene say, _about everything._

...

"Ellie," Riley piped in, disturbing my trance.

"Hm?"

"Are you going to tell me what's up?"

I looked at her, right into her deep brown eyes that I would have dived in. "Nothing's up."

"Right."

"Really, there isn't."

She scowled, albeit it was one of those lighthearted ones. "You basically fell down a _ditch_ getting here. You can't tell me that nothing's up."

"I wasn't looking."

"Right."

"Shut up." A chuckle. "And why would you care, anyway?"

She looked affronted by the question. "Well, for one, I'm your best friend." There was a short pause. "And, uh, there's that other thing. . ."

"Other thing?" I repeated.

"Yeah."

"Like?"

"Like. . ." she trailed off.

...

A smile sneaked across my lips.

"The _G-word_?" I offered.

She frowned even more.

Then there was a laugh, a laugh that had erupted from my mouth I was sure I'd never use again to laugh with. Riley did not seem amused, not even the slightest. And it was hilarious.

"That's getting a bit old, don't you think?"

"You care because you're my _girlfri_—"  
"Okay, shut up. Just stop."

And then I laughed, like, really laughed. Because the term_ G-word_ still sounded as ridiculous as the day I'd discovered it. My goodness.

"Ellie, you're fucking immature."

"You love it."  
"Uh, no, I don't." She nudged my shoulder. "But on the bright side, I've managed to make you smile for the second time today, looks like we're making significant progress."

I raised a brow. "When was the first time?"

"Uh, when you fell in that ditch and I laughed my ass off."  
"Oh, right." With my face turned to confront hers, I nudged her nose with my own. "And yeah, you're an asshole."

Our foreheads met, both our eyes were downwards, with our smiles curving up as the soft chuckles filled the air. "Yeah," she said, focusing on my lips.

My lips.

Mine were focused on hers.  
And, to be honest, it didn't take long for them to collide.

It still shocks me, knowing that she was here. Because you don't normally stumble upon a person you thought was dead for the past several months. You don't expect them to rise from the dead even if you were silently begging, hoping, and praying that they somehow made it out. Those shocks, they would trigger with every kiss that I had with her; it would be electrifying, and I would want more. Because Riley Abel could never seem enough to me, even if she managed to get out alive and had been kissing my lips like it would be the last time she'd ever kiss them. It would never seem enough. Even if it felt as good as it was bad. It was _never_ enough.

It was almost scary.

Seriousness aside, her lips were soft. Feathery. She tasted of fruits and pleasant scents that it felt like I wanted to take in everything about her. She reminded me of memories back at the school, with our friendship that I held to dear. And knowing that, I knew kissing her wouldn't be enough.

Not because it felt lacking, but because I had also missed everything else. The name-calling, the jumping across rooftops, the sneaking out to the mall, the water gun fights, the poker games, the alcohol nights, the punbook sharing. Everything that made our friendship grow into something more, I missed it.

But hey, we were getting there. Slowly but surely. Like she said, there was significant progress.

Riley pulled away, smiling as she tucked a hair strand behind my ear. Just like old times, goddammit.

A question rolled itself in my ears.

"You sure you're okay?"

...

"Yeah," I replied back, before putting my lips against hers once more. "I'm positive."

But oh, had I known. That deep inside my thoughts, with Marlenes, Fireflies, Joels, and lies buried beneath them, I knew.

...

I knew that I was far.

So.  
Very.  
Far.

From okay.

* * *

**I want to apologize for the lack of ElliexRiley in this one. Just wanted to take a break from the whole fluffy and happy side of this fic and wanted to focus on the more darker, realistic faces that it wore. ****Sorry for the delay, been watching a lot of The Walking Dead recently, and I'm friggin' hooked. Maybe one day, I'll consider writing a TWD fanfic. But let's set our priorities straight, right? Right.**

**Unfortunately, the next chapter will most probably be the last. And I'm already in the process of cooking that one up for you guys. ****I'll make a proper thank-you in the final post. I will see you all again soon. Happy 2015!**

**And PLEASE, leave a review of your thoughts for this chapter. I'd like to hear about it. Helpful criticism is also welcome, it quickens the pace and improves my writing!**

**I love you all, my dear readers. Stay classy!**

**-Taco**


	28. Rebuild

**The final chapter.**

**Watch out, it's a long one!**

**(The longest one yet).**

**I'm sorry, I think I've gone overboard.**

**I would like to thank all of you beforehand for reaching this part. Seriously. 28 chapters of _whatthefuck_. I will not hinder you any longer from reading, so please, do enjoy yourself.**

**And happy belated Valentine's!**

* * *

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**Chapter Twenty-eight: Rebuild**

**¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸**

**-JOEL-**

_Whomp._

The gun slammed itself hardly on the wooden counter.

Just like that.

Tommy had done it out of a mixture of pure frustration—and, well, confusion.

"Jesus," He had a hand to his forehead, his tired eyes glared at the floor, then up to Joel.

Joel.

Who was in his brother's house.  
Who was sitting on the chair with his hands covering his head.  
Who had been drinking a bottle of bourbon.  
Who had suitcases under his eyes.

...

Who had lied to Ellie.

Yet again.

And to whom had he vented it?

Yes, you got it.

Given the situation, it would be appropriate for Tommy to be in a state of incredulity.

And he did not disappoint.

"Jesus." he repeated, and then he let out a breath of air, making sure his wafts of disbelief and anger would reach his brother. He turned his back on him, weighing his arms on the wooden counter where his hunting rifle was previously slammed upon.

"I told you to tell her the truth," He faced Joel. "And, as the jackass you are, you do the exact _fuckin'_ opposite."

To be honest with himself, he expected this. And because he was expecting this, Tommy wanted to hit him. He wanted to yell at him. He wanted, with all his right, to get on with it and tell the truth to Ellie himself. He couldn't. It made him all the more frustrated, because he couldn't bring himself to do it.

His fists were clenched, boiling with an unintentional—or maybe intentional—sear of heat.

"The hell are you plannin' to do, Joel? Where's all this gettin' you in?"

The older brother didn't look up. His eyes were fixed on his own shoes, studying each and every trivial detail about them. His face portrayed blankness, but his conscience was buzzing his entire mind like a haze of bees.

He removed his hands, crossing them on his lap.

"I don't know."

Despite in his stupor, it was probably the most truthful thing he'd admitted these past days.

"_I don't know._" Tommy scoffed. "'Course. Typical of you, right?"

But he wasn't finished.

"Typical of you to screw things up? Ain't it right for you to let things happen your way? For you to just"—he whacked the air with his arm—"lose your temper over shit just 'cause you know you're goddamn wrong? Ain't it typical for my big fuckin' mature-ass brother?"

He was right, Joel knew he was. There was an attempt to speak up for himself, but he quickly withdrew. His mouth did not have the eagerness to protest back, his eyes were still frowning upon his mildly interesting footwear. The failure to process his words were blatant. He drank the alcohol some more, Tommy's mother-like admonishments became buzzes to his ears.

The younger brother turned around from the counter, "Know what?" and his voice was sharp and quiet. "You should've made her decide."

The tension poked him.

"You should've made her choose," His breaths were sharp-edged. "And tell me—tell me right _now_, that sacrificing herself for a vaccine ain't what she wanted."

Silence.

For a moment, Joel's lips started to curl in negativity.

...

"That's what I thought." Tommy's lips were pursed. "And now God _forbid_ you ever do the right fuckin' thing."

Remnants of burning coals had been provoked inside of Joel. The embers started to crackle.

From the chair, he placed the bottle on the floor and looked up.

"Even after all these years, your mindset's still the fuckin' same."

Mixed with slight inebriety, there was an adamant source of irateness in him. His hazel eyes were no longer warm.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are"—his voice rumbled—"tellin' me what's right and what's wrong? The world ain't black or white no more, boy. Wake up."

Tommy didn't try to talk back. Even in the repressing silence, Joel felt him mocking his actions. Constantly pushing him back and forth with his brother's bothersome appraisal.

Joel felt his head simmer.

It wasn't because of the bourbon.

But him.

He was fed up with him.  
With everything.

"What the hell do you exactly expect me to do, Tommy? Tell her that I slaughtered 'em all, that I couldn't leave her there, in that hospital? That I didn't allow her to die for a vaccine that ain't even a hundred percent surefire? What did you want me do? Go get her killed for some tall tale cure that ain't gonna do much a difference in this"—his voice grew louder—"this _shit_ of a world? You want me tell her the unforgivin' fuckin_'_ truth that'll break her recoverin' mind? Or, what—you want me to bring her back to that hospital and get herself killed? S'that what you want, _do the_ _right_ _thing?_"

Tommy responded with silence, only his hardened gray eyes could answer him.

"Well, c'mon then, let's bring'er back!" He stood up, with him came his backpack. "C'mon, you and me, we'll bring her there. M'sure we can revive one of 'em doctors, yeah? We got time. Hell, you and I both know that we're livin' on a shitpile of borrowed time, anyway!"

His mock-heroism proved terrifying. Tommy didn't want more of it. "Joel—"

Yet he tugged his arm, his grip was like iron. "C'mon, little brother, go get your gear and tell Maria we'll be back. We ain't gonna take too long. I'm sure she'll understand. Like you said, s'for the right _fuckin'_ thing, after all!"

"Joel, I get it—"

He ignored him.

The liquor in his blood encouraged his arising rage.

"I'll call Ellie, yeah? Tell her to ready up." He attempted to exit out of the door, calling her name out into the settlement. "Ellie!"

The words exploded and splattered themselves around for everyone to notice.

The coals inside of him were abundant with flames. He was starting to gain attention.

People were looking.

There were confused faces.  
Each of their pairs of eyebrows had been individually raised.

A scene was starting to unfold. He was going too far, he was stepping over the boundaries.

"Ellie!"

And Tommy had had it.

"Joel!" He gripped a hand on his shoulder and wheeled him back inside. "Stop! That's enough!"

"Baby brother changed his mind?" His breath was sour and booze-like. He fuzzed his eyebrows together, breathing heavily. "Or, what—you gonna go 'head and tell me how it's all my fault again? Tell me how much of a selfish, stubborn prick I am?"

"I didn't mean it like tha—"

"No, no, no. I get it." His voice bore daggers. "You're right. Everything you said's right. I _am_ a selfish son of a bitch. Go on, tell it to my face. Tell me how much of a _fuckin'_ animal I am!"

Intimidating silence.

"No? C'mon, Tommy," His eyes cut through him. "I ain't gonna slap you this time. Promise."

Suddenly, a memory flickered in his mind like an apparition.

Ellie remained unconscious on the surgery table.

Ellie.

Young, beautiful, brave. As she always was.

But she was unconscious. Powerless. About to have her head cut open.

She was going to die and he didn't want any of it.

Joel's forehead had started to collect sweat, his lips were becoming dry. Tommy stood before him, gawking obliviously.

The image flashed again, and now the nurses were on the floor.

Dead.

Blood littered the walls like large veins, with the bullets ingrained into their skin. Tommy continued to glare at him, and then the sounds of the female nurse were shrieking the words into his ear, piling it up to his brim until it overflowed.

_You fucking animal._

But.

There was a difference.

Only the doctor remained. He was so sure that he'd shot him too. Yet he remained.

He stood in front of him, there was a scalpel in his hands. His eyes were determined and angry.

They looked so angry.

"I won't let you take her." He directed the scalpel at him, his arm shook. "She's the gift, _our_ gift. You don't have the right to steal that away."

_Neither do you_, Joel thought. He was approaching him.

There were two ways that sentence could have been interpreted. The word _gift_ had two meanings.

Yet the doctor wasn't finished.

"She isn't your girl." he spoke back, Joel had been stunned. "She isn't your daughter, no matter how much you want to believe she is. She isn't yours and she won't _ever_ be."

...

And then.

And then something in him snapped.

The simplicity of his words provoked the already burning coals, and they rose up as violent flames.

It didn't take long for Joel to swipe the scalpel away from him forcefully, before pushing the both of them over to the wall. The painful collision exploded and erupted out of the doctor's back, making him groan in agony.

Joel's aura flared, and he held him up—two hands were clamped tight around his neck.

Choking. Suffocating. Killing.

The words of the nurse poked through him again. Taunting him.

_You.  
_  
_Fucking.  
_  
_Animal—_

"YOU AIN'T TAKIN' HER!"

His tether broke. The walls of the surgery room rumbled and shook, an earthquake was born. Ellie remained untouched on the table, unaware to the horror before her.

With two bulky hands clamped to the doctor's throat, Joel pulled him away from the wall.

Only to slam him into it a second time.

_Wham._

"YOU HEAR ME?"

_Wham. _A third time.

"YOU,"

_Wham._

"AIN'T,"

_Wham._

"TAKIN',"

_Wham._

"_Stop!_"

The walls of the hospital fell apart.

A house in Wyoming replaced the interior.

The doctor evaporated, a man with dirty blonde hair and soft eyes replacing him.

Tommy.

And then the realization dawned on Joel.

...

There was no doctor.

No hospital.

No Ellie.

No nurses.

Just Tommy.

Just Tommy getting choked.

Getting choked by his own drunken brother.

...

His hold loosened, and they held that position for a while. Sobering up, Joel's iron grip was starting to rust. Their eyes exchanged heat, the ground below them continued to shake. The only thing that killed the silence was the sound of their aggressive—yet terrified—breaths.

...

In disgust of himself, Joel released the hands that clamped Tommy's throat taut.

The result caused him to back away, allowing Tommy some space as he leaned on the counter, coughing and wheezing like a broken tractor. Just like his hunting rifle, the wall he had been slammed into was abused.

"I—" Joel started. They were crumbling words. Words that turned to water and drowned his mouth. His throat was clenched.

"I didn't mean . . . "

He stopped.

Because, now that he thought about it, had it really been unintentional?

Joel opened his palms, and Tommy had been all over them.

_How—?_

He did not understand.

He saw the doctor being held up by two hands, his face losing color by the second. He knew the scene verbatim, so sure that it had been the surgeon he was strangling, and not his sibling.

Even the hallucinations had caused him unrest.

Tommy stared at the ground, his shaking metal eyes grasping for something to hold onto. Leaning on the counter, his hand brushed his neck for a moment, evidence of Joel's actions printed all over him.

Both their chests heaved in and out, polluting the once still air all over. He looked up at Joel, his wheezes, his soul, and collar were in a complete mess.

He could see the way Tommy looked at him.  
The same way the nurses did.

...

...

You fucking animal.

* * *

Footsteps cluttered the hallway.

They were very light, he could hear them midst the droning sounds from the television. He yawned and glanced to his left, finding the moon patiently watching the wildlife documentary along with him. He hadn't bothered to draw the curtains, the view of the nighttime cityscape seemed much more therapeutic than the paintings surrounding him.

It was evident that Joel hadn't gotten much sleep today.

He sat at the end of the bed, and earlier he had been pacing the room in silence, his head swimming in thoughts as the cellphone lay wrapped in his palm. His fingers had grown sweaty due to being clamped up for far too long, but he didn't care. There were too many things to deal with tonight.

Too many.

For one thing, he had gotten a call.

Which was at the ripened hour of ten o'clock.

Two hours ago.

In short, well—he had gotten the call from his brother.

And he could still hear it.

Because Tommy's voice had been shrouded with repressed tears.

The way he spoke was strained and unwilling, it had managed to crawl its way to the other end of the line with defeated legs, and when it had arrived, the voice keeled and shriveled in Joel's ears.

He mustered up the courage to speak.

"Hello?"

For some reason, he knew by the sound of the still air on the other side that something was aloof. At this point, the icy breath refused to leave his throat, the fingers that held the phone to his ear started to arch anxiously.

"Joel,"

He hadn't noticed his silence.

"Joel?"

He shook his head. "Yeah?"

"It's Tommy." He had sounded brittle. And weary. He seldom sounded like this.

"Hey, little brother," His words were thrown and scattered on the floor, he was afraid that if he stood up, he'd trip on them.

For Tommy, the man took no time in stalling.

"The hospital . . . they . . . they called."

There had been a haunted pause.

Joel's stomach drowned in the depths of dread.

_No,_ he thought. _No, don't tell me. Please don't tell me._

Yet he did.

And it devastated them both.

"The hospital called, and . . . and it's about"—Tommy's static breath collapsed—"it's about Ma, Joel. They checked her pulse and it wasn't there and she—they tried to resuscitate her, but . . . Jesus. She's gone, Joel. I—. . . she's gone. Ma's gone."

Joel's world started to morph into nothingness.

...

"What?"

He had been in his workroom at that time, the lamp's light sorrowfully shining on his devastated stature. On the chair, his back had been hunched. His other hand was covering his forehead, his eyes were anywhere, anywhere but here.

Because he couldn't bear to look at the truth.  
Couldn't bear to glare at it straight in the eyes.

His mother was having chest pains. A heart attack from five months ago had sent her to the hospital.

Today, she had finally succumbed to it.

Pauline Miller died of an aortic aneurysm at around nine in the evening.

She was in her mid-sixties.

**x**

Just a week ago, he had visited her.

And with him, he brought a small bouquet of flowers.

He sat there before the bed, on a plastic chair.  
His mother had awoken before he would have done it himself.

Her body was frail, her hair tied back in an old, almost-gray braid with loose yet petite strands on her face. Her eyes slowly raised themselves up, which probably costed a portion of her energy. Her irises were a warm blue, they radiated themselves weakly toward him.

"Mornin', Ma."

She became lanky and hollow. Her rosy cheeks were now bleached in white.

He hated it.

He hated how she needed those tubes in her nose to get the oxygen and nutrients into her. How there was also that other tube poking inside of her wrist, where it led to a small bag that stood and loomed above her. He hated how she had been confined to this too-white bed in a too-grim hospital. How the doctors had the neck to demand more medical bills from an already financially unstable family. He might as well had been strangling the doctor when he asked Joel for additional tax.

Seeing her like this was the worst of all.

He hated it the most.

"White roses?" she asked, it was soft. Like her voice would have crumbled and she would've disintegrated along with it.

Joel's young hazel eyes trailed down to the solemn flowers that lay on his lap.

"Yeah,"

She smiled, it cracked his heart in twain. "I'm not dead yet, dear."

"I just thought you'd like 'em."

"Well, it smells like a funeral."

"Ma."

Her forehead wrinkled when the smile grew closer to the edges of her sagged cheeks. "Always can't take a joke, this one."

For him, it wasn't a joke.  
This was anything but a joke.

He was too frightened for her, the chest pains she had dealt a beating. Joel seemed restless, having to go through sleepless nights wondering how and when she'd lose her life in her sleep. Wondering when the ECG monitor would show straight, horizontal lines with a ghastly beeping sound. Wondering when he would receive that dreaded phone call that contained the news he would have never wanted to hear.

He wondered when he'd have his heart broken a second time.

The first time was Pa.

A trip back home from Georgetown had been disrupted when a drunkard rammed his SUV at the front of Pa's '90s BMW in an intersection.

His spine had been broken in three places.  
His head had been gashed severely.  
His neck was folded in an awkward position.

...

Killed during the accident.

The Miller family received the news when a police officer fished out a bloody ID from his pocket. It was three years ago, when Sarah had just been four.

Those nights were infinitely long. Their hearts had been scattered in shards. Consolation was of utmost importance.

And when his heart did manage to put a majority of those pieces back together, he lacked more glue to keep it intact. It'd been struggling to keep itself in place, and Joel wasn't sure when it would fall apart again.

He knew he mustn't get broken.  
He couldn't let his mother succumb.  
He couldn't let it happen again.

"Where's Sarah?" Her mother's quiet voice broke his thoughts. Sarah was her favorite, all right, despite being the only grandchild.

He saw himself three hours ago, kissing the top of Sarah's blonde hair before she scurried inside the classroom.

"In school."

"She havin' trouble?"

"No, ma'am," Calling her ma'am was a common courtesy they had kept since both he and Tommy were children. "She's doin' great."

"No fuss?"

He shook his head. "No fuss."

...

"You love that girl, don't you?"

The question was sudden, but it didn't take a hint of doubt for him to answer. "More than anythin', Ma."

The words mulled over both their minds, and Pauline smiled.

"That's good."

She allowed her hand to grip itself onto his.

"You've given up so much for her, Joel, you know that? My sweet, sweet boy. You've done us proud." Us. "She must be lucky to have a father like you. The best daddy in Texas, I know it."

"Just in Texas, Ma?"

"Try not to take it as an insult."

"I won't. Thanks."

They talked for a while. Neither had noticed that they'd been conversing in hushed breaths, as if trying to conserve a sort of nonexistent energy. They talked of parenthood, children, tax payments, the latest news in football, and whatever the hell people talked about in hospitals to keep the abhorrent reality at bay.

His mother had a way with words, like she had each and every syllable on the tips of her fingers, spindling her voice into smooth silk. Her sweet southern accent was a lot fairer than Joel's rough and tumbled one. He wished he could have heard her talk more, but was afraid that she'd have it broken if used for too long.

He used to be the sensitive son. Maybe he still was.

Ultimately, when the deeds had been done and the purpose of Joel's visitation were fulfilled, he glanced at his shabby watch.

"There's an errand I gotta catch with Tommy."

"That boy—you tell him that he needs to stop worryin' 'bout me."

"I worry too, Ma."

"Oh, I know you do, dear." She was holding his hand again. "We all know you're the silent one, but you worry a whole lot."

It was true.

He loved her, goddammit, she was the only parent he had left.

"I want to worry." he replied. "I want you to be fine."

"I will," She raised her hand from his and cupped the side of his cheek. "You know I'll make it out of this."

He wanted her hand to stay there forever.

He wanted to take in the softness of her fragile skin and the gentleness of his mother's words. Having her hand next to his cheek made him want to shrink and become the boy he once was. The boy who had trouble tying both shoelaces. The boy who couldn't find balance when riding a bike. The boy who often shielded himself in the arms of his mother and father.

The boy who had little to no knowledge of the outside world.

He wanted to become a child again.

He was tired. Of all the problems, the worries, the responsibilities, everything. He could hardly believe his mother's encouragement. Sarah definitely deserved better, how could she consider her son as a suitable father? Heck, he hardly even considered himself a man.

He needed his mother, now more than ever.

"I know." Joel replied, and he took Pauline's hand from his cheek and kissed it.

In the end, she didn't make it out.

It broke his heart all the same.

**x**

The phone call seemed like centuries ago; yet Tommy's voice still echoed in his mind.

Eventually, the sounds of the steps from before had managed to crawl its way into his room. It wedged itself between the small, open gap of the door which had groaned softly in reply. Joel turned around—eyeing the figure before giving a weak yet warm smile.

"Hey, baby girl."

He could barely hear her when she managed to whisper out, "Hi, Daddy."

Her stance was juxtaposed to the doorway, she had been leaning on the frame's side as she attempted to wrestle the sleep out of her eyes with a fist. Her blonde hair ended just before her shoulders, her small feet clad with rainbow socks she got for her seventh birthday a few months ago.

He looked at the clock above the television.

"Bit late, don't you think?"

"I couldn't sleep," She was sitting at the end of the bed with him now, they were watching the documentary, all cuddled up and yawning.

"Yeah, I can't sleep either."

_Because of Ma_, he thought.

For a while, they watched, Joel's arm wrapped around his daughter, her head leaning on him.

Silently, he attempted to forget the phone call.

He failed.

He saw his mother in every visible space.

The news still bore presence in his mind.

It irked him. It irked him that he couldn't talk about it, that Sarah had absolutely no knowledge of her grandmother's passing. A part of Joel wanted to tell her, but argued against it. Not now, not when everything seemed undisturbed.

And they continued to watch. Neither actually listened to whatever the narrator had been saying—it was more of like daydreaming.

Sarah spoke after some time.

"Daddy?"

His eyes were focused on the screen.

"What is it?"

"Is your guitar there?"

...

They both faced each other. Joel could see her eyes, blue and warm and innocent, her rainbow feet were dangling childishly.

She had her grandmother's eyes.

A weary smile cracked within him.

"We'll wake the neighbors." It was meant as a joke.

"What, and they'll complain to the cops?" The girl was particularly campy. "Daddy, _pleeease_. Just one song."

"All right, but on a condition," and he ruffled her hair, "you'll be sleepin' right after. That a deal?"

"Da-_ad!_"

"What?"

"It's Friday, so I don't got to."

Joel shrugged. "Guess I won't be gettin' that guitar, sorry."

She pouted, her voice in clear disdain. "Fine, I'll sleep!"

He grinned and kissed the top of her head. "Be right back, honey."

Down the stairs he went, off to grab his guitar so he could serenade a song to his seven-year-old daughter. When he managed to climb back up with the instrument, Sarah had positioned herself in Joel's bed, a blanket covering her from the waist down.

He smirked. "Since when did my bed belong to you?"

"Since now!" she whispered happily.

He grabbed a chair and sat beside the bed, positioning the guitar in his arms. "Which song?"

"Oh! The one that goes," She started to hum a tune but failed, laughing in the process.

"That's somethin'."

"Can you play that?"

Knowing the song, he strummed the tune, causing Sarah to remark in delight.

"Yeah, that one!" She grabbed the remote on the drawer and closed the television, signalling Joel to start.

And when he did, the trills of the chords filled the air like soft winds, piling up the brim of their ears with sweet melodies.

Subconsciously, they started to sing.

Together.

_I know you belong_  
_To somebody new_  
_But tonight_  
_You belong to me_

Sarah didn't know a good portion of the lyrics, so she resulted to humming again while Joel sang and strummed. They laughed between the singing, though they hadn't cared.

_Although we're apart  
You're a part of my heart  
But tonight  
You belong to me_

It was like the moon and clouds had watched them, nonplussed over the sight of a man and a child singing, laughing, and not having a care if the neighbors had heard or not. The depressive thoughts and emotions that seeped into Joel slowly diminished, and despite their sleepiness, their joy had remained.

_My honey, I know_  
_With the dawn_  
_That you will be gone_  
_But tonight_  
_You belong to me_

_But tonight, you belong to me_

He wanted to live in this memory so bad.

There was something in this particular moment that made him want to freeze time.  
There was something in the way they sang that made him want to play forever.  
There was something in his daughter that encouraged him to get through the days.

Maybe this was love in its defined form.

...

Maybe this was how it felt like to be a parent.

He could hear his mother's words.

_She must be lucky to have a father like you._

He repressed the threatening tears and smiled with glassy eyes. First at the memory, then at his daughter.

He loved her, you know?  
He loved her more than anything.

When they had finished, the girl smiled.

"That was great," Her head looked up at him. "You gotta teach me how to play that soon!"

He let the instrument lay on his lap. "I'll buy you your own guitar,"

Sarah's blue eyes lit up, the way a child always did.

"Really?"

He wasn't bluffing.

"Promise. We can start this summer, if ya want."

She leaped out of the blankets and kissed his scratchy cheek.

"You're the best, Dad, really. Thanks!"

He had a hard time believing her statement.  
Yet he smiled again.

"You're welcome."

Later that night, they continued to watch, but Sarah found the documentary as boring as she could imagine, and flipped the channels until a particular Disney movie popped up.

She squealed.

"This is my favorite," Smiling, she snuggled next to Joel in the bed.

"I thought you liked the mermaid one the most?"

"Well, not anymore—lions are way cooler, Dad."

Eventually the moon had managed to signal the young girl to sleep. While Joel offed the television, Sarah asked with an unfamiliar politeness if she could sleep in his bed in lieu of her own.

"Of course you can, honey."

She proposed to share the part of the mattress, but ended up taking the whole thing. (It hadn't bothered Joel, though. It wasn't like he was going to get any sort of shuteye today in the first place).

Tucking her in bed, he bade her goodnight.

"Goodnight!" she whispered back to him.

He smiled, his mouth stretched wide and eager as he brought out a gentle finger and brushed the blonde strands from her face. The moment he bent down to kiss her forehead, his heart swelled with an insurmountable amount of affection.

Indeed, this was how it felt like to be a parent.

"Sweet dreams, baby girl. I love you."

It didn't even take Sarah a hint of hesitation to respond.

"I love you too, Daddy."

And when he closed the lights of the bedroom and walked downstairs to his office, a stray bead of water from his eye had trickled down his cheek.

He let it.

It flowed down with eagerness.  
Dropping to the floor triumphantly.

The words from his mother sang to him again.

_She must be lucky to have a father like you._

Goddammit.

With glassy eyes, he looked up at the ceiling.

__I'll raise her good, Ma._ _He internally told his mother, wherever she was._ _I'll make you proud.__

The ceiling didn't seem to care.

_And what could _you _possibly want?_ it might have asked.

But Joel could only smile back.

...

They'd be preparing for the funeral soon.

He needed to tell Sarah. Sooner or later.

Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the next.

But soon.

...

Yet it was tragic.

Considering how clueless he had been.

He had no idea that in five years, he would be holding the girl's lifeless body in his arms.

And the sight of it would break his heart all the same.

* * *

They were sitting on the floor.

Their backs were leaning against the counter.  
Their legs were propped up, their arms resting on them.

Joel's bottle of bourbon sat somewhere in front of them, each of the two had a glass.

To be completely honest, neither him nor Tommy remembered how and when they had ended up there.

Marks were still printed on the younger sibling's neck like crime evidence. He swallowed a sour lump in his throat and allowed the top of his head to kiss the counter. His eyes were lazy and heavy, consumed by the liquor that numbed his whole body.

Joel—given the situation—continued to drink.

It was plausible that the alcohol caused them to not remember. No one could blame them, bourbon proved best in shit situations.

Like on this particular day, for example—they drank on the account of domestic assault directed toward a goddamn _sibling_.

Joel had to explain it to him, it had been uncomfortable.

Difficult.

Hard to reason with.

Especially with the booze and all.

But there was this thing with these two brothers, some sort of automatic sympathy and understanding that they had for one another. Even if Joel had slammed him into a wall with his neck tightened and squeezed, he understood.

It seemed like it, at least.

"I get it," Tommy said, shortly after Joel had finished his not-so-great explanation. They shared the drink, passing it to and fro so they could pour it in their own glasses.

"I know, Joel, you didn't have a choice." he continued.

Joel's lips pursed, pausing before drinking another good portion of his beverage. Although he had a high tolerance for alcohol, the amount of drunkenness he had'd swallowed a part of him. Like a blue, lingering feeling.

Tommy was either referring to the lie, the action of him not giving Ellie up, or both.

In the long run, he was still wrong.

Joel looked at him, then at his glass of alcohol, then back at him.

"No,"

Tommy's intoxicated eyes angled complexly to his location.

"What?"

Joel pursed his lips, holding the glass with both his hands, his cloudy eyes were staring at his footwear once more.

"There was."

He looked at his younger sibling.

His hazel eyes were different.

They had a firmness that Tommy had never seen before.

"I made a choice," he said, drinking another shot.

...

...

...

"And it was her."

* * *

**-FOUR DAYS LATER-**

"Already?"

They were in Bill's cabin shack.

He had handed Joel Ellie's Walkman, claiming that it'd been repaired.

The girl had no knowledge of this—she didn't even _know_ that Joel had gotten her Walkman.

He took it in hopes of getting it fixed. She never used the thing anymore, always keeping it in her drawer, left suffocated and rotting. He remembered the days when she'd wear the earphones, press the play button, and pretend that music came out. She would always laugh and snicker and dance foolishly to the imaginary tune, usually using her fingers as drum sticks or piano keys. Joel would act uncaring, asking her coldly to quit the act and focus on whatever they had been doing.

When winter came and left, he hadn't realized how much he missed her tomfoolery.

David had done something to her. But he couldn't blame him solely. He felt bashfully liable for even putting himself in that weak situation, forcing Ellie to cross her own boundaries for the sake of saving her impaled companion.

Those months were hell.

On her.

After the incident in the lakeside resort, she'd grown quiet. She hadn't bothered with the jokes. The humming and whistling had been reduced to a sheer minimum. What replaced the spunky, eccentric firework was a quiet, broken girl. By that point, he would have done anything to bring Ellie back to what she once was.

Only then did the realization hit him.

Joel didn't take the Walkman in hopes of getting it fixed.

He took it and wanted it fixed in hopes that she could be happy again.

Bill shrugged, replying to his disbelieving remark. "Well, yeah, not a hard nut to crack. The inside belt got stretched so I installed a new one and oiled it. Took less than an hour, works like it's in mint."

Joel looked solemnly at the ground, fumbling the Walkman in his hands. His mouth prepared itself to speak out some words of gratitude, measuring and examining their weight before presenting them to him.

"I know you ain't a fan of doin' favors, 'specially since it's somethin' for uh . . . Ellie. So, thanks, Bill. Appreciate it."

Saying her name felt different. He couldn't see her happy, hopeful face whenever someone had brought it up.

He could only see her look of disappointment.

Staring at him.

...

Bill squashed his trance with a laugh.

"That girl—we're goddamn best of friends at this point, you know? Frolicking under the sun." His arms weighed down on the metal table before him. "Figured I'd give that twerp some happiness."

He wasn't lying. Bill and Ellie's relationship had rocketed from the_ don't-even-touch-me_ status to_ slightly-more-than-an-acquaintance._

Joel should be happy about it. He was. But the idea of the girl talking and socializing more with Bill than him—especially after the second lie—made him feel disgruntled.

"But listen," Bill interjected, Joel's eyes lifted up to meet him.

"One good favor doesn't mean I'm your personal repairman, alright?"

"Alright,"

"If you bring your shoddy face in here with more broken whatsits . . ." he muttered, breaking his words into small pieces.

Joel allowed himself a chuckle. He enjoyed his comical attitude at times.

"Nah, s'just a one-time thing, Bill."

"_One-time thing._ You hear yourself? Believing you would be hilarious."

"Yeah, I don't blame you."

He snorted and continued his work. "So what's with the Walkman?" They'd been separated by a metal table, Bill had gone into the business of cleaning his shotgun with a rag.

The Sony Walkman.

That little music gadget was Ellie's favorite device.

He learned something from her, during the course of their adventure. Even if it had been broken, Joel sneaked glances of her one night, singing to the moon. He had noticed that the Walkman and earphones she had on didn't work.

It startled him.

She was the only person he'd ever seen who still used a broken music player.  
She was the only person he'd seen in years who even had the knack at humming or singing.

She just imagined the music playing.

And it was magical.

Puzzling.

...

Tragic.

It was a memory that lingered in him for a while.

"Ellie always complained 'bout it." he replied. "Said she misses the way the tunes flow into her ears . . . music's always a mood-lifter, y'know? I thought she'd like it if it'd been fixed up."

He remembered it now.

One of the memories.

**x**

It was early fall, probably a few weeks after the incident with Sam and Henry.

They had managed to find a decent home, and opted to sleep in the wide balcony of the two-story.

During the night, he had tried to give himself some shuteye. The thin sleeping bag under him proved minimal comfort, his hazel eyes consumed the starry sky above him, gawking at it.

It felt like he'd been falling.

But not downwards. Upwards.

Into the stars.  
Into the oblivion that'd been the sky.

...

His watching had been interrupted when he heard Ellie's voice.

And it was soft.

Sweet.

It kept trailing off, but he could hear her.

She was singing.

_A flock of birds  
Hovering above  
Just a flock of birds . . .  
_

There was a silence.

She continued, her soft voice did not hold the usual docility it had before.

_That's how you think of love . . ._

Still in his mat, Joel turned to face her. She had her back facing him, her eyes had been up at the stars as if she'd been talking to them.

Her singing was different than the times she sung whenever they were adventuring. Those times, her voice was rambunctious, completely wild and uncaring.

But this?

This wasn't the same voice he heard.

It was a sad one.

A hidden one.

...

A truer one.

He watched her, he listened to her. His breathing came by slowly and silently, afraid that she'd sense his lucidity. His sore body from hours and hours of trekking seemed to have eased.

He never knew she could sing like that.

_A flock of birds, hovering above_  
_Into smoke I'm turned and rise_  
_Following them up_

_..._

_Still . . . I always look up to the sky_  
_Pray before the dawn_  
_'Cause they fly away_  
_  
One minute they arrive . . . next you know they're gone_

The sweetness of her voice seemed almost tangible.  
But there was something else.

Sorrow.

She sang as if she'd listened and had sung the song many lifetimes ago. As if each word in the lyrics'd brought back a rueful nostalgia. As if she'd used to do it with someone that once held a special place deep within her.

He was so naive back then.

_So fly on  
Ride through_

_Maybe one day,_

_..._

_I'll fly next to you_

She shook her head, letting out an uneasy breath. Her head looked up again at the stars.

"I'm so stupid,"

It was a quiet whisper, a soft wind humbly making its way through the night.

...

Joel would never know that the song reminded Ellie of Riley.

He would never know that she practically thought of her every single day.

He would never know that she had tears streaming down her face that night as she sang softly to the stars.

What he did know, was that she had the Walkman in her hands. The earphones were comfortable in her ears.

He knew it was broken.

She'd been listening to the ghosts of her past.

Reminiscing a happiness that had long faded away.

**x**

Music was her escape from reality.

Music was everyone's escape from reality.

Joel breathed in, glancing at Bill—he'd been disassembling some guns, oiling and maintaining them.

_Right._ He nodded his head, remembering where he was.

"Thanks again for, uh, for fixin' it. Appreciate it a whole lot."

Bill didn't take his eyes away from his work.

"Yeah, well, get going before I stick a pipe up your ass."

_Typical bastard._

Yet Joel was smiling.

He turned and headed for the door, but a voice lashed him and roped him back.

"Hey, Joel?"

When he looked, it was Bill.  
And his lips were pursed.

"I—" he started, but stopped. He tried to open his mouth, it didn't seem to work.

...

"Look," He breathed in, heavily and softly simultaneously. "I know the messenger's called in late, but . . . I'm sorry."

Joel scrunched his eyebrows. "What for?"

There was a pause, and Bill rolled the words out of his mouth with reluctance.

"For Tess,"

The name made his blood freeze.

Tess.

...

He hadn't heard that name in decades.

He hadn't seen her face in centuries.

His face drained in a soft feeling of blue; he allowed it this time, instead of shrugging it away.

". . . and for spouting all that bullshit about her." Bill continued. "I didn't know. I _should've_ known."

He permitted the message to sink in.

"Ellie told you?" asked Joel, after a while.

He nodded.

Joel mulled for a moment.

He remembered her. He remembered her face, her voice, her aura. He remembered the memories they had. There were the tenebrous ones. Like sneaking past soldiers in an underground tunnel. Like keeping silent in the dark. Like heaving boxes of load and cargo. Like taking names off a list like hit men.

But there were also mellow ones. Like sharing cold soup during a rainy day. Like laughing softly inside a weatherboard shack. Like having their hands curled together for a moment. Like sleeping in the same, shabby bed with faint, dozing smiles on their faces.

...

He remembered she and him, smuggling a girl out of Boston.

Remembered finding her body.

Drenched and limped.

She had occupied the space on the blood-soiled floor.

Dead.

...

He took in a sharp breath of air.

"It's okay."

It was and it wasn't.

"Just wanted to"—Bill scratched his neck—"to say something."

"I know."

Silence.

"Thank you, Bill."

"Yeah, alright."

He knew Bill had never been good with apologies—or talking with sincerity, for that matter. He couldn't blame the man.

Bill stopped his gun checking momentarily, his taupe eyes were dragging themselves up to look at Joel. He breathed in again, clapping the table softly with a hand.

"I actually have something that I, uh, that I think you'd want."

"What is it?"

"It's in the cabinet." He tossed his head at the large, wooden closet. "Gimme a sec,"

As he waited, there were probably half a dozen assumptions ruminating through Joel's head.

Maybe he thought that it'd been some sort of tool Bill was giving him.

Maybe a new gun to add to his arsenal.  
Maybe another siphon hose.  
Maybe even a Harley.

Anything that hadn't been an instrument.

Because—as if it couldn't get even more unusual—Bill had brought out a goddamned guitar.

Joel's eyes grew bulbous for a moment, and his mouth opened to speak in surprise. He checked if he was dreaming. He wasn't. The hallucinations had nothing to do with this. Joel tried to speak a second time, but had failed. Miserably.

"Saint Nick's early this year, boy." Bill laughed, walking back to the metal table. He carefully held the wooden instrument using its neck and body, lowering it down gently onto the table.

Dazed, Joel brought his eyes down to gawk at it.

If Bill had found the guitar in the shittiest of conditions, then he had restored the old thing until it looked more than adequate to put on a display case. The color of the guitar was a natural amber. Its fretboard cleaned and strings present. There were a couple of markings here and there, but at this point, the scratches meant nothing.

It was an actual guitar.  
Which most probably worked.

What more could one ask?

"Where did you—?" He forgot how to speak again.

Bill grinned. He was enjoying this, more than he should have been.

"Found it hiding from me when I prettied up this shit-shack. If you could have seen the dust—oh, it'd be enough to make a life-sized replica of Clint fuckin' Eastwood."

They stood there for a moment, across from each other. The guitar looked up at the two of them with pride.

Instantly, Joel remembered the memories from years ago—singing to his daughter as his hands worked with the six-string. He remembered buying a guitar for Sarah during the summer, teaching her day and night without rest.

During his birthday, the music lessons proved worth.

She'd sung and played on the guitar, as Joel sat down to listen. He had been the proudest father, you know? Sitting there, watching with love and pride as his daughter strummed the same lullaby tune they always played.

It'd been one of the best days of his life.

_Goddammit. _He laughed through his grin, shaking his head.

He didn't feel like the guitar would be for him this time,

But for Ellie.

A plan formed itself in the corners of his mind.

The Walkman and the guitar looked at each other.  
This might be his only chance.

...

He couldn't wait.

"Bill, I— . . . thank you." His words poured out of his heart and sweetened the other man. "Thank you. I mean it."

He smiled.

"You bet your sorry ass you do."

"I practically owe you a—"

"Oh, no," He pointed a finger at him. "Don't start that _how-could-I-ever-repay-you_ bullshit. I'm doing this outta the kindness of my heart—which I apparently seem to have."

He most certainly did.

It was bigger than what most people would have thought.

Joel was still confused. "Why, though?"

There was a calm silence, and Bill shrugged.

"Well . . . " There was a certain gratefulness crouched down in his eyes, he cleared his throat and jammed his gloved hands into his pockets. "You, your people, and that goddamn kid of yours have gotten me out of a dark space. You've taken me in, you've let me stay, and you've practically saved me from"—his eyes depressed themselves onto the floor—"from something,"

Joel didn't push. Let sleeping dogs lie.

...

The seriousness lingered for a short moment.

The taupe eyes of Bill angled themselves at Joel's.

" . . . and you tickle me."

He snorted.

"Alright, Bill."

"So don't go and say that _you_ should be the one owing _me_ shit. It's the least I can do."

Both smiled. They allowed some peeps of contentment to seep in and spoil their hearts. Even if it was for a little while, they deserved it.

"But that still doesn't mean I'm your personal repairman, alright?"

He stifled a laugh. "Okay, Bill."

"I swear to God—if you so much as haul a goddamn car to my front porch, I'll skin you."

_Typical bastard. _

Yet Joel was smiling.

* * *

**-RILEY-  
THREE HOURS LATER**

"Jesus,"

My arms gave out. The hay bale collapsed and plopped itself before my feet with a soft crashing sound.

"Fucking hell."

These things weighed like a goddamned truck.

With sweat trickling down my forehead, I sighed. This was the third load, and my body had already been exhausted.

I wiped the sweat off with an arm. "You've outdone yourself this time, Riley."

Indeed.

Great job on myself for this one.

Pat on the back.

Two thumbs up.

There's nothing more entertaining than making fun of yourself.

Unhappy, I looked behind me, eyeing the rest of the bales that needed carrying.

There was an indefinite _assload_ of these nuisances. All piled up, relaxed on top of each other as if they were waiting for me to pick them up and carry them over to several individual pushcarts. I could imagine them.

The old barn laughed as I stood before it.  
The summer sun was hot and hollering.  
The hay bales were enjoying my suffering.

_We don't have all day, Riley. _they called out. _Get off your ass._

I might as well had been their slave, these uncooperative sadists.

While deciding how to lift up the fallen hay bale without breaking my back, a soft, furry-like sensation touched and drifted past my leg.

It purred.  
And I groaned.

"I know you're there, Cheeto."

The fuzzy fugitive gave out a meow, rubbing its whiskery face on my leg.

The thing was an orange tabby, and was around three years into his easygoing life. His name belonged to an old American snack I'd obviously never heard of, and he'd been quite plumper than the average post-pandemic cat since all the kids in Jackson would feed him leftovers or fish bones. A beautiful freak of nature, this feline. There wasn't anything like him back in Boston.

Well, if there was one thing about him, it's that he loved himself a couple ounces of human affection.

Right now, he had rolled over and presented me his white, furry belly. Purring and moving his tail around like he always did when he wanted people to rub that damned stomach of his. If you had a hand, he expected you to have it on his belly—and then all over him. You'd probably do it too, because everyone wants to pet an adorable, slightly overweight cat.

But today, I wasn't going to succumb to him.

Noticing that I hadn't been rubbing his stomach, he rolled back on his feet and looked up at me with those yellow, sharp eyes. His irises were black and round, I could practically see my miniature reflection on them.

He meowed once more, almost as if asking why I hadn't bent down to cuddle him.

"Not today, buddy," I gave him a sorry look and proceeded to grab the hay bale. "Gotta"—Grunted, I lifted it up—"do this right now,"

For a few seconds, I was holding it, but my arms gave way again and the bale dropped to the floor, narrowly missing Cheeto. Taken aback, he gawked at the object and directed his scornful eyes at me.

"Sorry," and I finally placed myself in the business of bending down and coddling his ears. "Here's to make up for it. Yeah, you love that, don't you? You chubby thing."

The hay bales were yelling at me by this point, but I couldn't care less.

What I cared for, though, was the sound of shuffling feet starting to come towards me.

Uh oh.

A voice brought itself along with it.

"Hey," it said. It was deep. Masculine. Texan. The words splattered across my back, forcing me to stand up and face it.

Joel.

Oh.

I remembered the previous day, when Ellie had vented to me their current struggles. She told me about the lies. The secrets. The backgrounds. It felt like we'd been doing a news coverage.

She had mixed feelings with this man.

Hidden conflict and estrangement.

I could see it whenever I came over.

"Hey, Joel."

There was a small plastic bag in his hand. He gave off a minuscule smile and traced his hazel eyes down to the animal sitting beside me.

"Hi, Cheeto."

Cheeto didn't need to acknowledge him, he had his own excuses. Like licking his fur and moving his tail.

I wished I was a cat.

"These hay bales treatin' you nicely?" queried Joel, squinting his eyes as the sun's rays scratched our faces.

"Actually, Maria, uh, needed the bales moved over to the stables. I offered to help," I kicked the bundle softly with the tip of my shoe. "But yeah—these guys are giving me backaches."

He sized up the mess of bales before us, pursing his lips. It took four seconds before he walked over to an unsuspecting heap of bundled hay and lifted it up effortlessly with one arm.

"I think I can do somethin' 'bout that," he huffed, and with his free arm, carried another.

Yes.

You heard me.

He carried another fucking hay bale.

I was gawking. Cheeto sat beside me, we were both indulged in this hulk of a man.

Despite my cordial protests, he couldn't stop until all the bundles of hay had been properly placed in their respective pushcarts. They all had their mouths shut now, the bastards. Maybe they too had been intimidated by his tall size and great goddamned strength.

He returned with his hale arms, a smirk on his lips. "There we go."

There we go?

_There we go?_

"Thanks," I said, tone in awe. There was embarrassment creeping into my skin, either I was extremely fatigued, or my bones were just as brittle as paper.

I noticed that his eyes had gone down to the plastic bag clinging to his forearm, and realized that he hadn't visited me for the sole purpose of lifting up weights. I knew him well enough that he wouldn't be the person to particularly beat around the bush.

As expected, he scratched his neck coyly before moving on to the gist.

"Riley,"

Uh oh.

I looked up. Reluctantly.

Sometimes I wondered how tall people like him could keep balance.

"Listen," he started.

Oh boy, here we go.

"The reason why I went here's, uh . . . "

I waited with a pensive breath, going through the different scenarios in my head:

_The reason why I went here's because I don't like you and Ellie together. So stay away from her.  
_  
_The reason why I went here's because I don't like your attitude and you best change it before I do.  
_  
_The reason why I went here's because I don't like you in general and I want you and that friend of yours to lea—_

"The reason why I went here's because I wanted to"—his eyes heaved themselves at me—"to thank you."

What?

I looked at him in surprise.  
Cheeto looked at him in surprise.  
The world looked at him in goddamned surprise.

"What?" The words were tangible now.

...

"She was in a mess," he said, "and you're bringin' her back."

Ellie.

He was talking about Ellie.

He opened his mouth slightly, as if to say more, but decided against it.

I knew that he was grateful.

He told me he was, but the words of gratitude hadn't gone out of his mouth. He told me in his actions.

All he'd done was look at me, smile, and hand over the plastic bag with defined appreciation.

I took it and peered within.  
My jaw nearly dropped inside.

...

Ellie's Walkman.

"It works," Joel's voice appeared as I gawked at the thing. "It was broken a while back, got Bill to fix it."

My eyes hadn't left the Walkman.

The memories all came flooding in.

The_ I Got You _and the _O Children.  
_The dances and the kisses.  
The music and the belonging.

They soaked my mind, and I let the feelings stain me.

...

"When you think it's the right time," he said, "give it to her. You're the only person I know who deserves to do it."

I was smiling.

"I will. Thank you."

He returned the expression, crouching down to pat Cheeto before standing back up.

"See you whenever," and he started walking off, his red flannel floundered against the wind.

I couldn't let him leave. Not yet. He needed something.

So I made a decision worth the risk.

He was about five feet away when I roped him back.

"Hey, Joel,"

He turned.

The words fell off my lips like water.

They were smooth.

And unexpected.

...

And true.

"She loves you," Something swelled in both our chests, the wind played at our shoulders. "I know she does."

Even with the loathing and spite, she did.  
It takes a hell lot of love to resent someone like that.

Joel's hazel eyes grew rounder. His frame softened and he beamed with a broken smile.

He said nothing, but the gratefulness spilled out of him and showered me whole.

He needed to hear what was true. He deserved to.

"Take care of each other," he reminded me, "you and that girl of yours."

Then we left it at that.

He was gone before I realized it.

...

I was left standing and looking at the bag, taking around two minutes before Leon arrived.

"I'm back," he announced, strolling in and greeting Cheeto with a belly rub. He eyed the pushcarts with the hay bales in them and whistled, his hand clapping my shoulder. "I knew you could do it without me."

He spotted the plastic and raised an eyebrow.

"Where'd you get that?"

"From somewhere," I told him, and we pushed the carts back to the horse stables without him giving another thought.

I somehow liked Leon like that. Disinterested. Unconcerned. He only pried when he needed to.

Half an hour later we'd just managed to unload the pushcarts, and Joel's words still hadn't left my ears since the moment he spoke them.

_Take care of each other, you and that girl of yours._

I was elated.

But.

...

But she wasn't mine.

I don't think she could ever be anyone's, anyway.

She never wanted to be owned, you know?

Even now, it's what I love about her.

* * *

**-JOEL-  
LATE AFTERNOON**

The guitar was outside, leaning on the wall.

Ellie didn't know about the guitar.  
She didn't know her Walkman had been missing.  
She didn't know that just a few moments ago, he'd given it to Riley.

She also didn't know that Joel'd entered her room.

Silently.

The door was already ajar, so he crept in quietly and saw her, as if he was looking at her outer shell.

Ellie sat in her swivel chair, occupying her desk. She seemed to had been sketching something, with the view of the village just before her.

He looked at her for a moment, not noticing the gradually increasing conspicuousness the room contained.

The silence continued. They both listened to the distant shouts and hollers of the children playing street soccer below. The commotion of the settlement'd circled them, from beyond the window Joel could see the late afternoon sun, shining upon the trees and rooftops of Jackson. He could hear the calm, muffled conversations of adults dispersed around the village. He realized that summer would finish its course soon, even the air inside the house lost its warmth.

When Ellie had eventually noticed the slight shift in the air, she spun around in her swivel chair with wide eyes, easing them when she realized that it had been Joel.

"Oh," she said, "hey."

"Hi,"

He scratched his wrist.

"I didn't mean t'scare you."

Ellie revolved in her chair slightly. "Nah, it's nothing."

There was a stillness.

He had to live with this now. This murderous silence.

He hated it.

So he tried to bring up some small talk.

"Things have somewhat . . . calmed down out there. The kids next door, they went scavengin'. I think one of 'em found some water guns, actually. Why don't y'come out later and hang with 'em?"

Something sparked behind her sullen face, he knew a part of her wanted to, but instead she crossed her legs and flattened her lips.

She wouldn't succumb to it.

"Maria needs me more with tending the stables and repairing the outer walls. I don't really have time for that anymore, Joel."

He scowled internally. Everything she said these days sounded mechanic.

She wasn't lying. She seldom found time to head out into the woods like she always used to. Her swimming sessions happened once in a blue moon, and the only time she went out was because of work or if she wanted to head to Riley and Leon's. She still ate with him, but the table was always quiet. The sounds of clinking utensils were the only things littering the air.

It frustrated him.

It was like he was losing her.  
It was like he talked to a ghost.  
It was like his efforts'd rendered useless.

...

It was like winter all over again.

"You can take a break, Ellie." he countered. "We all appreciate what you're doin', a little breather ain't hurt no one."

She attempted to protest, but breathed in a sigh. He could sense that she wanted this conversation over with.

"Yeah, okay. I'll try."

She wouldn't.

Not unless he brought her back again.

"Ellie, I—" he sighed. He needed to get to the point.

There was no time for stalling.

"I notice you've been . . . quieter these days and . . . I just want you to know that y'can tell me whatever it is you're feelin'. You know I'm always here to listen, kiddo."

He wanted to kick himself. _Why can't I just tell her already?_

Her face morphed into another expression. It was ambiguous. She opened her mouth by probably a centimeter, and Joel could almost hear the words she had always wanted to tell him the moment she awoke in the backseat of a car.

_Why did you lie to me?_

Instead, the words stood hidden behind a false statement.

"I'm fine, Joel, you don't have to worry about me."

Her green eyes weren't glowing anymore. She directed them at him almost sorrowfully, like she wanted him to know they weren't.

"Okay?" she said.

Joel couldn't say it back.  
Because it wasn't the truth.  
Because it wasn't okay.

He just wanted her to be fine—truly fine.

That was all he hoped for.

And he would.

...

The wooden instrument yelled at him from the other side.

_Right,_ he thought. _The guitar._

"Wait," he said. "I've got somethin' t'show you."

He turned and headed outside the room, picking up the guitar that'd been wanting to be played after years of being left untouched. His palms were shaking slightly. He practiced the song earlier, in his room. He still knew the chords, but his fingers would sometimes lag behind.

He couldn't let her wait any longer.  
Either he would mess this up, or succeed.

Make or break.

When he went back in, Ellie's eyes widened in surprise as they examined the guitar, but had morphed back into a look of neutrality moments after.

She was hiding again.

"And what's that supposed to be?" she asked. Sarcasm and faux disinterest had been printed all over her, Joel couldn't let it deflate him.

"Well," He cleared his throat, preparing his best southern hick accent. "I done hear that some people call this a _gui_-tar, yeah?"

He cringed at himself internally, but the hick accent earned him a quiet chuckle._ Thank God._ He stifled the urge to grin.

He hadn't heard her laugh in years.

"I knew that," and she pulled off a weary smile. "What's it for?"  
"What d'you think?" He smiled. "I'll sing you somethin'."

The color on her face almost disappeared. "What?"

He held his grip on the instrument firmer. He could do this.

"You said you wanted me to sing, back in fall," He swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering the rebar that impaled him. "It's long overdue, but better late than never, right?"

He half-expected her to raise a hand and argue against it, to tell him quietly that she didn't really want to hear his piece at the moment. Despite looking collected, he shook terribly from the inside. His palms had collected a large amount of nervous sweat that it could be plausible for the guitar to slip from his fingers. God, this was a stupid idea. What had he been thinking? Surely, Ellie would hav—

"Yeah," she replied, pulling off another weak smile. She was touched he remembered. "Better late than never."

_Thank God._

He remembered the song, remembered its lyrics, and re-imagined its tune. The one he sang for Sarah—during her eighth birthday.

_Yeah, this one._

His breathing increased, the memories watered him and he allowed the past to pull him back.

_One more time._

...

His fingers worked magic.

The music hit high.  
His rough voice had smoothed and hit low.

_If I ever were to lose you,_  
_I'd surely lose myself_  
_Everything I have found dear_  
_I've not found by myself_

_Try and sometimes you'll succeed,_  
_To make this man of me_  
_All of my stolen missing parts_  
_I've no need for anymore_

She drew up one of her legs to her chest as she watched. Her eyes were in awe, studying how it was possible for such a primitive-looking thing to produce music so clear and beautiful. Joel's voice was a wonderful accompaniment, his usual gruff tone had been transformed to . . . to _this_.

He had his focus on the strings, careful not to break the streak. Every now and then he'd steal a glance from Ellie, and seeing that conscientious, happy look of hers made him grin through his vocals.

He saw her face.

And she was smiling.

It wasn't weary.  
It wasn't broken.

It was _shining_.

_I believe,_  
_And I believe  
'cause I can see,_

_Our future days,_  
_Days of you and me_

Bit by bit, the walls tore away. Slowly, the connection that had corroded began to rebuild. They didn't know how. Maybe it had been the music, maybe the lyrics. Maybe they'd just needed the opportunity to understand each other.

Whatever it was, he was making it work again.

The strumming grew and accelerated. The soft pickings became smooth, gradual plunks. His fingers'd already ached, having them pressed against the hard strings for too long. He didn't care. He hardly cared for himself at this point.

There was just the music.

The tranquility.

And Ellie.

__When hurricanes and cyclones raged_  
_When winds turned dirt to dust_  
_When floods they came or tides they raised_  
_Ever closer became us__

He remembered the hardships. The struggles they'd been through to get here.  
He did a quick rundown, watched as the seasons flashed before his eyes.

Summer.  
Autumn.  
Winter.  
Spring.

As the seasons went by, the tighter their connection became. He remembered his spitefulness toward her in summer. The fight during fall. The incident during winter.

...

Winter.

He could see the restaurant and the billion flashes of cold white specks hitting his face. He could smell the smoke and sorrow of a young girl, her body covered with blood, her soul beaten and broken.

He heard the words, howling through the ghostly wind.

_He tried to—_

_Oh, baby girl._

It'd been the first time he addressed her as that.  
It'd been the first time he opened himself up to someone.

After twenty years.

Seeing her like that—her ribs injured, her face bloodied, her eyes leaking, her innocence shattered . . .

It broke his heart.  
It broke him all the same.

_All the demons used to come 'round _  
_I'm grateful now they've left . . ._

The song probably lasted four minutes.

Four minutes to tell her she meant the world to him.  
Four minutes to tell her that it wasn't for nothing.  
Four minutes to tell her he loved her.

_I believe,_  
_And I believe, 'cause I can see_

_Our future days_  
_Days of you and me _

_. . . _

_You and me_

By the time he finished, the walls had fallen down.

This time, it took four minutes for _her_ to tell him she loved him back.

Ellie'd done it when she sat there on her swivel chair, gawking at Joel after he set the guitar down to lie on his lap. The air was filled with compassionate silence. Her chin rested on the knee of her leg, her green eyes afire with a light he thought had been long snuffed out.

Joel's voice went to her again.

_Our future days . . . days of you and me._

Ellie smiled.

And she told him she loved him.

She did it in a way he least expected.

With three words.

Three.  
Simple.  
Words.

"That was beautiful."

There was a silence between the two.

And it was okay.

* * *

**-ELLIE-  
FOUR DAYS LATER  
9:21 PM**

Let me paint you a picture:

An alcove in the woods.  
Two girls. Lying on the grass.  
The sky sprinkled its stars across a black sheet.

That was what'd been basically happening for the past ten minutes.

Honestly, I loved it.

She brought me here, this alcove. After dinner she proposed a plan, and we ended up running off to the woods like dashing, young thieves in the night. We sped through our own tunnels of laughter, breaking twigs and disturbing birds as we continued our way.

I wanted to live in these kinds of moments forever.

At one point we arrived, and Riley goaded me to lie on the grass with her.

Eventually we did, and while watching, she asked me how my day went.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"He's been giving me lessons."

"Already?"

"Well, yeah." I said, the grass rustling against my skin. "Not much to do nowadays, really."

I remembered it, a couple of days ago.

The guitar.  
The song.  
The lyrics.  
The voice.  
The meaning.

I couldn't get them out of my head.

Because everything about that moment seemed beautiful.

Even him.

The thing that the majority of us don't get, is that people aren't beautiful solely because of how they look like.

It's not just because of the looks. Nor their actions.

But for who they are.

And during that moment, I saw the beauty in everything.

...

When he'd finished singing that emotional roller coaster of a song, Joel handed the guitar to me.

And I was speechless.

"No, Joel, I can't," I had told him. "This is yours."

He simply waved me off, claiming he promised that he'd teach me how to use a guitar. It was mine, he said, and maybe one day I'd get to play like him.

I was touched that he remembered.  
I was touched that he even _sang_ to me.

Holding that instrument in my hands gave me a whole different feeling. Having the sensation of my fingers running along the strings was ethereal. He beamed the whole time, telling me I reminded him of Sarah when she first got her own guitar.

I could only imagine how much feelings that dealt him.

...

"So," Riley spoke up, her eyes were on the moon. "How is he?"

Joel.

I couldn't say we were automatically back to what we once were, but we were getting there. Slowly but surely. The lies no longer bothered me as much as they used to, and the guitar lessons proved that we were repairing what we once broke. I missed the old moments with him, where I'd tease him and he'd reprimand me comically. Where I'd call him degrading, elderly names and he'd roll his eyes. I missed our joke sessions and the swimming lessons. The hunting for game and the casual treks in the woods.

We were getting them back.  
And I was glad.

"We're okay," I told her. And it was. "It's getting better."

"That's good," she replied, and we watched as the universe above us unfolded.

We stayed like this for a while, just lying down and stargazing. Riley grabbed my hand from the grass and we traced the constellations using our fingers. Back in Boston, we would do this when we sneaked out. Putting dummies made out of pillows on our beds so we could leave without the soldiers realizing. I still remembered the shyness between us. The uneasiness that weakened our bones whenever we ended up too close for comfort. I remembered the awkward laughs and the tense-filled moments where our bodies were too near, and I recalled feeling the strange . . . magic sensation whenever it happened.

Actually.

It still felt like magic, whenever I was next to her.

Like now.

Now I was looking at her, watching as she lifted my hand and pointed at the stars.

Riley Abel had beauty, just for being herself.

...

Goddammit.

I wanted to live in this eternally.

Because now was having our backs pressed against the grass, with the summer leaves falling everywhere. Now was when the night was young and the stars came out to play. Now was serene. Peaceful. Now was us laughing at jokes and recalling old memories. Now was hearing her childish laughter and having it fill the inside cracks of my heart.

To hell with surviving. This was living.

This was how it should be.  
How it always should be.

...

"Oh, wait," Riley suddenly sat straight up, short blades of grass were littered across her back.

I did the same.

"What?"

"I almost forgot—I got something."

She had grabbed her knapsack and sat back down.

I gave her an amused look.

"Let me guess, another joke book?"

"Unfortunately, no." She dragged the next word. "_But_ . . ."

And then she took it out.

It.

Meaning my Walkman.

Oh.

...

OH!

"How did you—?"

Riley had her other hand scratching the back of her neck. "I'd like to, uh, apologize . . ."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah." Her eyes were absentmindedly looking at the stars. "Joel and I, we . . . um, we technically stole it from you." she replied. "He had it fixed by Bill—it was his idea, actually . . . "

"You?" I was taken aback. "And _Joel?_"

"Yep."

"Wow, never thought I'd see you and him working together."

She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Just put these on, will you?" She took the Walkman's earphones and placed one on my right ear, the other on her left one.

This was all highly uncanny.

She could sense it too, because there was that look on her face.

Coyness.

"I know," she said, as if reading my thoughts. We were sitting down on the grass, Riley had been to the right of me. Sharing earphones, our bodies were cuddled together.

"Is it the same tape?" I queried.

She nodded.

I chuckled, nudging her shoulder. "Quite the sentimental person, you are."

Riley rolled her eyes, adjusting the Walkman. "Oh, shut up. I'd give you a new tape if I had one."

We settled down after a few minutes, and when the air became still, Riley took a mute breath, finally pressing the play button with uneasiness.

...

There was a mild static, bustling through the night. Then the music began, and the tune of exquisiteness filled the brim of our ears.

"Wow," I said.

I won't say the name. Or its lyrics.

Just imagine this.

Recall the most beautiful song you know.

The truest, softest, and sturdiest one.

The one that plays during starry nights.  
The one that goes well with raining seasons.  
The one that goes well with everything.

That one. You have it.

Now listen to the beauty of it, as we did to our own song.

...

Our eyes hooked together.

There was tension.

Our faces were inches apart, but as much as I'd fancy it, kissing wasn't what either of us needed at the moment. Instead, my right hand interlocked with her left, and we laughed in quiet breaths, in awe at how nostalgic, tragic, and beautiful hearing music was after months of being deprived from it.

The music was desperate, longing, in search for the sweetness of life. It rang through the night, glowing with the fireflies and chirping with the crickets. The clouds swayed in its rhythm, as if the world had done a ball waltz. At one point, we held each other, my head resting on her shoulder as we watched the sky.

It was beautiful.

"Joel . . . " Riley spoke up, her voice soft beneath the music. " . . . he told me to give you the Walkman when I thought it was right."

I removed my head from her shoulder and looked at her, making our eyes connect once more.

"He wants us to look after each other," she continued, rubbing my hand gently with her thumb. "To be happy."

She bit her lip.

"He wants _you_ to be happy, El. It's why he does these things. The guitar, the Walkman . . . I know you might still be upset with him, with his lies. But—"

She shook her head.

"_H_e_ loves you, _Ellie. You know that? I can see it whenever he looks at you."

...

"And . . . "

She licked her bottom lip, attempting to open it.  
Yet the words couldn't seem to leave her mouth.

There was a pause.

And finally, she let it.

". . . _I_ love you,"

Sitting on the grass with her, I was frozen. Shocked by her three words.

...

"We both love you, Ellie. Joel and I," Her voice was in whispers now. As if afraid that I'd hear too much of it. "I hope you know that."

I was still frozen.

I always thought I knew.  
I just never thought I'd hear it from them.

But here we were. In the woods of Wyoming.

And she just told me she _loved_ me.

...

I was going through it again and again and again in my head.

Love.

...

I think that was the first time in my life that I'd ever hear those words. To finally hear confirmation from someone that there was in fact people out there who loved me.

Who cared about me.

Who would do anything for me.

...

The realization was euphoric.

A feeling muddled me. It made my heart burst. It made four more words fly out of my lips, escaping like they'd been trapped in me for far too long.

"I love you, too."

It was her turn to freeze.

It'd been the first time I had ever told anyone that.

The music continued, desperate and sweet and tough and true and real. Our breaths felt frozen, our heartbeats pacing faster and synchronized. I couldn't get either of our words out of my head.

It's the realization that stunned me, you know?  
The fact that I loved Riley, and she loved me back.

Love.

...

I had to get used to that word.

We hadn't spoken anything else because everything had already been said. The flow of the music intensified, and the drive of it was enough for me to cup my hands on her face.

I looked at her, straight into her brown eyes.

She smiled, I smiled.

I took in her love.

And I kissed her.

I kissed Riley Abel in a way I'd never kissed her before.

She did the same.

Our faces collided. My hands found its way around her neck as she wrapped her arms around my waist. We craved for the other, our moans soft and flowing with the music. The sky felt like it was on fire. I could smell the love on her, and I knew she could smell the love on me.

We ended up on the ground, holding each other, kissing each other.

_Loving_ each other.

It went like that for minutes upon minutes.

And underneath the universe, lying on the grass, our bodies had molded into one.

Yes, it was cheesy.  
Yes, it might have been too cloying.  
But much as it sounds perfect, it wasn't.

It was beautiful.

And beautiful was never really a perfect thing.

* * *

It's strange, though.

Because the words still hadn't gone away.

_I love you._

_..._

I realized that with those three words, she repleted me.

That with those three words, she kissed my scars. One by one.

With those three words, she held me close and destroyed my past.

It took a beating.  
It took hell and back.  
It took years of struggles and hardships.

It took those three words for me to realize that everything we'd gone through hadn't been for nothing.

It was for this.

_Now._

Jackson.

For our life.

I looked back at the years and dug out the memories. They were like sand, pouring and slipping out of my fingers as they dropped themselves to the ground.

I saw pieces of my life through the eyes I'd been given. One by one, I started to recall them.

I held the Walkman in my hands after retrieving it from a lousy thief and later on went along with her as we sat on roofs to watch the stars. I read a letter that belonged to my mother. Listened to the painful words of a girl as we stood in a room, and watched as she disappeared from my life. I sneaked inside a mall ransacked with memories. I heard music coming out of unused speakers. I kissed a girl's stubborn lips and gawked at a wound with flowing blood.

I saw a girl fall into the water. Saw my world being torn apart.

...

I cried in a lonely hour. Felt the ridges of a blood-stained pendant.

And then.

And then I met a broken man with heavy, hazel eyes. I admired the sacrifice of a fallen martyr and despised a person with loneliness in his soul. I befriended two brothers who hadn't deserved to die, and observed as summer transitioned to fall. I opened the scars of the broken man, watched helplessly as a rebar spiked through him, and felt the blinding ice of a cruel winter.

I then stumbled upon a man.

Made of secrets.

Of falsity.

...

I let him break me. My innocence. And I felt the longing for warmth. The sense of belonging.

Of love.

The next memories went by swiftly.

Maturity. Grief. Distance. Giraffes. Short-term happiness. Nostalgic sorrow. Tunnels. Fireflies. Hospitals. Disappointment. Betrayal. Jackson. Confrontations. Swears. Slander. Lies. Secrets. Truths. Returns. Friends. Leon. Bill.

Riley.

Love.

...

Pain.

There's this thing about it.  
Pain _changes_ people.

But at times, those changes are good things.

In my life, there was pain, and it helped me grow. It helped me get through this mess of a world.

It helped me to survive.

...

...

...

Now, I just had to live.

**-THE END-**

* * *

**_Edit: _Yes, I know, Joel didn't tell Ellie the truth. **

**Yet.  
I had that intentionally.**

**His lie will eventually yield consequences during the sequel.**

**You heard me.**

**A_ sequel._**

**Songs in this Chapter:**

**_Tonight You Belong to Me - Eddie Vedder &amp; Cat Power_  
_Fly On - Coldplay_  
_Future Days - Pearl Jam_**

**_THE ALTERNATIVE FANMIX IS NOW AVAILABLE IN MY PROFILE PAGE!_**

**x**

**Inspired by the stellar video game, The Last of Us, The Alternative is a work of fiction. **

**I do not own anything but my original characters.  
This fanfiction is dedicated to the people who have urged me on and supported me.**

**Without you, I truly wouldn't be writing this.**

**x**

**Sorry for the poopy ending (if it was poopy for you)  
I hope you have learned something from this story. I certainly have.**

**I have allocated almost a year's worth of writing into my first fanfiction.  
It has amazingly been a roller coaster of experiences and changes.**

**But this is not the end.**

**This_ will not_ be the last time you'll be seeing me.**

**...**

**The Alternative Part II is coming soon this February/March 2015.  
****  
Please review and share the story. I will never get tired of hearing your opinions.****  
**

**And I will never get tired of you guys.**

**...**

**Thank you. ****So much.**

**I mean it from the bottom of my heart.**

**And stay tuned, my friends, for the sequel.**

**\- Taco**


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